Desire
by Lady-Izanami
Summary: Upon her father's death, beautiful headstrong Lady Levy knew that she must wed, for the protection of the isle Desire now fell to her. Yet one of her guardian's choice of prospective husband rode through her castle gates she not only felt scared but afraid All sinewy muscle and savage steel, Sir Gajeel of Wyckmere was not the poet she requested, but a fearsome knight. Gajeel x Levy
1. Prologue

Please note that this story is **basically the same as Desire by Amanda Quick** (that is why it is listed under Parody) However I have changed the story in more way than one. This story will have side stories once I get all the main characters introduced. I also plan to change the ending of the story so that it will not be the same. I decided to make this story because I wanted to share this great story with the characters of fairy tail.** I don't own fairy tail or Desire.**

* * *

"It is extremely unlikely that the lady of Desire is still a virgin" Metalicana of Landry said. "But under the circumstances, I'm certain you'll find yourself able to overlook that aspect of the situation"

Gajeel looked at his father impassively. His reaction to the news that his future bride had already dishonored herself with another man was virtually undetectable, a mere tightening of his fingers around his wine cup.

As a bastard son who'd been obligated to make his way in the world with his own strength, he'd had years of experience of concealing his emotions. In truth he had become so skilled at the business that most people concluded that he had no strong emotion of any kind.

"You say she's an heiress?" Gajeel forced himself to concentrate on the most important element of the matter.

"She holds and estate?"

"Aye"

"In that case, she'll do fine as a wife." Gajeel hid his intense satisfaction

His father was right. As long as the lady was not pregnant with another man's babe, Gajeel was prepared to overlook the issue of his brides honor or lack the same for the sake of gaining lands of his own.

_Lands of his own._ The words shimmered with promise.

A place where he belonged; a place where he was not just the bastard son whose presence must be tolerated.; a place where he is welcomed and needed not merely because his skill with a sword was useful temporarily useful. He wanted to live in a place where he had the right to sit in front of his own hearth.

Gajeel was twenty-one years old and he knew that he might never again be granted this opportunity. He was a man who had long since learned to seize whatever chance fate brought his way. It was a philosophy which had served him well in the past.

"She is now the sole Mistress of the isle of desire." Metalicana sipped wine from his finely crafted silver cup and gazed thoughtfully at the fire. "Her father, Sir McGarden, favored travel and intellectual pursuits over working the land. Unfortunately, word has reached that he died several months ago on a journey in Spain. Murdered by Bandits"

"There are no male heirs?"

"Nay, two years ago, McGarden's only son Edmund, broke his neck in a tournament. Levy the only daughter, is the only one left. she inherits the manner"

"and as Sir McGarden's liege lord, you have wardship of his will marry at your command."

Metalicana's mouth twitched "That remains to be seen."

Gajeel realized that his father was barely containing a grin. The knowledge made him uneasy.

As a man whose own natural temperament had always been serious and deeply restrained nature, Gajeel was not much given to mirth. he rarely responded to mild amusements to jests and japes, that made others laugh aloud.

His unsmiling countenance nicely complemented his reputation as a ruthless man who could be exceedingly dangerous to cross. He had no particular objection to smiles or laughter ; he was just not often inclined to indulge either.

Now he waited wearily to learn what it was that Metalicana found so amusing in what should have been such a straight forward matter of business.

He studied his father's lean, and elegant profile in the light flames of the hearth. Metalicana was in his mid fifties, though he looked like he was still in his thirties. His shoulder length silver hair that covered one of his eyes, he captured the attention of every female who came within his sphere.

It was not only the power Metalicana had as King Makarov's favorite barons that made him an object of interest to females, Gajeel knew it was also Metalicana's handsome face and form that made him popular to women.

* * *

Metalicana's skill at seduction, employed quite freely both before and after his arranged marriage. Gajeel's mother, the youngest of the a noble family in the south, was one of his many conquests. As far as Gajeel knew he was the only adult illegitimate offspring. If there had been any others, they died during infancy.

To Metalicana's credit and his wife's thinly disguised displeasure, he had done his duty by his bastard son. He had acknowledged Gajeel from the start.

Gajeel had been raises by his mother until the age of six. During those years Metalicana had been a frequent visitor to the quiet manor house where Gajeel and his mother lived. But when Gajeel had turned six, nearing the age when the sons of nobles went into training for knighthood, his mother announced that she intended to take the veil.

There had been a fierce argument. Gajeel would never forget his fathers rage. But his mother had been adamant and in the end she had won. Metalicana had even provided the magnificent dowry that had made the convent more than happy to accept Gajeel's mother as a novitiate.

Metalicana had taken his bastard son home to Beckworth Castle. He had seen to Gajeel's education as a knight with the same care and diligence that he applied to his legitimate sons, and his heir, Lahar.

Metalicana's wife, Lady Minerva, beautiful, cold and proud, had no option but to tolerate the situation. Perhaps not unnaturally, however she did not go out of her way to make young Gajeel welcomed into the household.

Deeply aware of his status as an outsider, missing the studios, contemplative atmosphere of his mother household, Gajeel had poured all his energies into his training with sword and lance. He had practiced endlessly, seeking an elusive satisfaction on a quest for perfection.

When he was not honing his fighting skills, sought out the solitude of the library of the local Foire monastery. There he had read anything and every thing brother Freed, the librarian had given him.

By the time he was seventeen Gajeel had studied a wide variety of subjects. he had delved into treaties on mathematics and optics that had been translated from Greek and Arabic by Brother Freed. He had pondered Aristotle's theories of the four elements earth, water, air, and fire. He was fascinated by Plato's writing on astronomy, light and matter.

Many powerful lord, including his father, had considerable use for a man who knew how to hunt the thieves and marauding, renegade knights who were a constant threat to their remote estates and manors.

The business of snaring outlaws paid well and Gajeel wast adept at it. He had never been particularly enamored of the profession.

Four days ago Gajeel had received summons from To return to Beckworth Castle. Tonight he learned that his greatest wish will soon be fulfilled. It only required that he accepts a lady with a blemished reputation as a wife.

It was a small price to pay for what Gajeel wanted most. And Gajeel was accustomed to paying for what he wanted.

"How old is the Lady of Desire?" He asked

"Let me think, Levy would be seventeen now, I believe" Metalicana said

Gajeel frowned. "And still unwed?"

"I am told that she had no great wish to be wed," Metalicana said "Some women do not wish to be wed. your own mother for example. "

"I doubt that my mother had much choice in the matter after I was conceived." Gajeel said in a carefully neutral tone. this was old and all too familiar ground. He knew well how conceal bitterness. "she was fortunate to find a nunnery that would take her."

"Little did they realize, of course, that whichever house took her in would soon be under he command"

Gajeel shrugged. He saw his mother infrequently, but he corresponded with her regularly and he knew that Metalicana was correct. His mother was brilliant, formidable woman. Every bit as brilliant and formidable as Metalicana in fact.

Gajeel Focused his attention on the matter at hand. "Is Lady Levy ill-formed in some fashion?"

"Not to my knowledge. I haven't seen her since she was a child but as i recall she was a well made girl. she showed no promise of becoming a great beauty, but I noticed naught that would be deemed ugly or misshapen in her appearance." Metalicana cocked an eyebrow "Are her looks a matter of concern?"

"Nay" Gajeel gazed into the fire. "Only her lands are of concern to me."

"I thought as much."

"I was merely seeking reasons to why she has never wed."

Metalicana moved on hand in a dismissing gesture. the exquisite silver and black embroidery on his tunic gleamed in the firelight. "As I had said before some women have no great wish to be wed, however for one reason or another she is forced to wed."

"For the sake of her holdings?"

"Aye, the isle of Desire is like a plump bird ready for the picking. It need protection. She writes that there have already been problems with her neighbor Laxus of Dreyar, as well as with a and of brigands who are harassing her shipments of goods to London."

"So she is in need of a reliable husband who can defend her manner and you, sir, wish to be certain that Desire can still be profitable to you."

"Aye, the Isle isn't very large but it does develop a large amount of income from this" Metalicana picked up a small purple embroidered bad and tossed it to Gajeel. As soon as Gajeel caught the small pouch the scent of flowers and herbs hit his nose.

"Perfumes?"

"Aye, tis an island of flowers and herbs. And the products it send to the market are perfumes and creams of every description."

Gajeel looked at the fragrant little pouch in his hand "So I am to become a gardener?"

Metalicana Smiled " It will be something for a change for Kurogane of Wyckmere."

"Aye, that it will. I have little knowledge of gardening but I will soon learn whatever is necessary."

"You have always been quick in that regard, no matter what the subject."

Gajeel ignored the comment "So the lady of desire is willing to wed a man to protect her vast flower garden. And I want lands of my own. It would seem that she and I can strike a bargain."

"Mayhap"

Gajeel narrowed his eyes. "Is there some doubt?"

The smile that had been hovering around Metalicana's mouth turned into a brief laughing grin." I fear there is some competition for the position."

"What Competition?"

"Laxus of Dreyar, Levy's Nearest neighbor is also one of my vassals. He has had eyes on Desire for some time. In fact he is the chief reason why I suspect Lady Levy is no longer a virgin."

"He seduced her?!"

"From what my sources have gathered, they say Laxus virtually Kidnapped her last month and held her at Dreyar keep for some four days."

"And he then tried to force her into marring him?!"

"Aye, however she refused."

Gajeel raised an eyebrow at the news. He wasn't surprised at the tale. Kidnapping unwed heiresses was a common enough sport. But he was startled to learn that the lady was not immediately wed after the event. Few women would have refused after losing their virginity and their reputation to an encroaching lord. "A most unusual female."

"Aye, It seems Lady Levy has very particular requirements regarding the man who will be her lord."

Metalicana grinned again "She sent me a _recipe_ for a husband, in fact. She wishes to select one who meets the exact specifications, you see."

"Hells Teeth... A recipe? I knew you were keeping something from me."

"She has written her requirements in great detail, Here see for your self"

Metalicana picked up a folded up parchment of the table beside him, and handed it to Gajeel.

Gajeel glanced at the broken seal and saw that it was in the shape of a rose. He read swiftly through the greeting and opening paragraph of the beautifully scripted letter, and skipped to the portion which detailed the ladies requirements.

* * *

_I have given your wishes and the needs of my people mush thought, my lord. I regretfully accept the necessity_

_of a marriage. To that end I have considered the matter with extreme care. Desire is a very remote place, as you_

_well know. I know of no eligible men in the vicinity besides my neighbor, Sir Laxus, who is unexceptionable._

_I therefore respectfully ask that you send ma a selection of at least three or four suitors. I shall choose a husband_

_from among them. To assist you in the task of selecting the candidates for the position, I have prepared a recipe for the_

_perfect husband._

_You my lord, obviously have interest in these lands. i understand that you wish for them to be protected, as do I. From your_

_Point of view, therefore, the future lord of Desire must be a trustworthy knight who can command a small but effective group_

_of fighting men. I will remind you that he must bring such a group with him, as there are no trained men-at-arms here on_

_the island._

_In addition to that obvious requirement, which I know that you will see to, I have three more requirements of my own._

_I wish to specify them in detail so you and I are on the same page._

_First as regards, his physical appearance, must be a man of moderate proportions and stature. Second, my future lord must be a_

_man of cheerful countenance, and well-mannered, pleasuring disposition. Third is absolutely important, that my husband must be a_

_learned man, one who is capable of reading and enjoys intellectual discourse._

_I trust my three requirements are quite plain and my recipe is clear. There should be no problem in you finding several candidates._

_Please send me the candidates quickly so that you don't lose anymore profits._

* * *

Gajeel refolded the letter aware of the unholy amusement in his father's eyes. "i wonder how she came about these requirements,"

Metalicana chuckled " I suspect she took the basic elements from some minstrel's ballad, you know the sort. They generally feature a chivalrous hero who vows his undying love to his lady."

"A lady who normally belongs to another man," Gajeel muttered

"The hero's liege lord, for example. Aye I know the sort of song you mean. i do not care for such my self."

"Ladies love them"

Gajeel shrugged "how many candidates do you intend to send?"

"Two, "

Gajeel's brow rose "not three or four?"

"Nay. In my experience you only ask for trouble when you give women too many choices."

"so two suitors them, myself and another,"

"Aye."

"Who shall I be competing against?"

Metalicana grinned evilly "Sir Laxus of Dreyar. good luck to you son. The ladies requirements are simple are they not?"

Gajeel handed the letter back to his father."she is fortunate, is she not? i meet one of her requirements. I can read. Gihee"

Gajeel made his way down the long hallway on the way to his room, so that he can pack his items for departure, when his step brother Lahar. Even thorough he has a very manner full appearance and seems to be a gentleman who excels at his role of heir of the family, he is actually a cocky little asshole. He passed me and bumped into my right should and began to speak.

"I hear you are getting another mans trash," Lahar said with a chuckle, Gajeel continued walking ignoring him

"Your just a bastard son who deserves second rate trash anyway," He said as Gajeel continued to walk away, about to turn around and punch him in the face when one of the maids came and began talking to Lahar. If he had punched him and the maid reported me Gajeel he could kiss those lands good bye faster than a ship can sink. One of these days Gajeel will show Lahar that even though is a bastard son, he is better than him.


	2. Chapter 1

Levy was in the convent gardens with Kinana, the Prioress of Saint Hermoine, when word reached her that the first of the suitors was on the Isle of Desire.

"A grand company of men has arrived Lady Levy. They are coming toward the village now," Happy called

Levy paused in the middle of a detailed discussion for extracting oil from roses."I beg your pardon, madam," she said to Prioress Kinana

"Of course." Kinana was a petite girl with violet-colored hair and green eyes, with a round head. Her attire consists of a lime green-colored blouse with a green neckline and trim, which is complimented by a long, white skirt, wearing green boots.

"This is an important event"

Levy turned to see young Happy hopping about in great excitement near the convent gatehouse. He waved his small hand at her.

A petite, blue haired, dark eyed lad of ten, he was a good natured combination of lively curiosity and unquenchable enthusiasm. He and his mother, Lady Lucy, had come to live on the Isle three years earlier. Levy was very fond of both of them. As her own family had dwindled down to nothing, leaving her alone in the world, she had grown very close to Happy and Lucy.

"Who is here, happy?" Levy braced herself for the answer. every inhabitant on the desire, with the exception of herself, had been eagerly anticipating this day for weeks. She was the only one who was not looking forward to the selection of the lord of desire.

"Tis the first of the suitors you said Lord Metalicana would send" Happy stuffed a handful of fish crackers in his mouth. "They say he appears to be a most powerful knight, Lady Levy . He brings a fine, great host of men-at-arms. I heard John Blacksmith say that it took half the boats in Dreyar to get all the men and horses and baggage from the mainland to our island."

A curious flutter of uneasiness made Levy catch her breath. She had promised herself that when the time came, she would be calm and businesslike about the matter. But now that the moment was upon her, she was suddenly vastly more anxious than she had thought to be.

"A great host?" Levy frowned.

"Aye." Happy's face glowed. "The sunlight on their helms is so bright, it hurts your eyes." He gulped down two more fistfuls of the crackers. "And the horses are huge. There is one in particular, John says, a great gray stallion with hooves that will shake the very earth when he goes past."

"But I did not request a great number of knights and men-at-arms," Levy said. "Desire requires only a small company of men to protect our shipments. What on earth am I to do with a large number of warriors underfoot? And all their horses, too. Men and horses eat a great deal of food, you know."

"I trust that you are right, madam." Levy lifted the fragrant pomander that hung from a chain on her girdle and inhaled the soothing blend of roses and herbs. The scent comforted her, as it always did. "Nevertheless, it will be a great nuisance having to feed and house so many men and horses. By Saint Mavis's ear, I do not like the notion of having to entertain all of these people. And this is only the first of the candidates."

"Calm yourself, Levy" Kinana said. "Mayhap the crowd that has disembarked down at the harbor is composed of more than one suitor. The three or four you ordered may have arrived all at the same time. That would explain why there are so many men and horses."

Levy cheered at the notion. "Aye, that must be it." She dropped the small pomander so that it dangled once more amid the folds of her gown. "All my suitors have arrived together. If they have each brought their own entourages, that would explain the large number of men and horses."

"Aye."

Another thought along the same lines struck Levy, one which immediately wiped away her momentary relief. "I do hope they will not stay long. It will cost a fortune to feed them all."

"You can afford it, Levy."

"That's not the point. At least, not entirely."

Kinana's eyes twinkled. "Once you have made your selection from among the candidates, the others, including their men and retainers, will take their leave."

"By Mavis's sainted toe, I shall choose quickly, then, so that we do not waste any more food and hay on this lot than is absolutely necessary."

"A wise plan." Kinana eyed her closely. "Are you so very anxious, my child?"

"No, no, of course not," Levy lied. "Merely eager to get the matter concluded. There is work to be done. I cannot afford to waste a great deal of time on this business of selecting a husband. I trust Lord Metalicana has only sent me candidates who meet all of my requirements."

"I'm sure he has," Kinana murmured. "You were most specific in your letter."

"Aye." Levy had spent hours formulating her recipe for a new lord of Desire.

Those hours had been spent after she had wasted even more time concocting dozens of clever reasons why she did not need a husband. To that end, she had called upon all the skills of rhetoric, logic, and debate that Kinana had taught her. She had been well aware that if she was to avoid the inevitable, she would need to give Lord Metalicana a truly brilliant excuse for refusing marriage.

Levy had tried out each finely reasoned argument first on Lucy and then on Prioress Kinana before committing it to parchment. Sympathetic to the cause, both of the women had considered the string of carefully crafted excuses one after the other, offering criticism and advice.

In the months since her father's death, Levy had been developing what she was certain was an absolutely unassailable, logically graceful argument against the necessity of marriage based on the naturally secure position of the Isle of Desire when disaster had struck.

Her neighbor on the mainland, Sir Laxus of Dreyar, had wrecked the endeavor by kidnapping her while she was on a short visit to Dreyar.

Furious with Laxus because he had ruined every-thing by providing clear evidence of her personal vulnerability, Levy had proceeded to make life at Dreyar Keep a living hell for him. By the end of her enforced stay, Laxus confessed himself glad to see the last of her.

Coming as it did on top of the increased predations of the robbers who infested the region, the kidnapping was the last stone in the sack. Levy knew that it was only a matter of time before Lord Metalicana heard the rumors. He would conclude that she was incapable of protecting Desire and he would act at once to see to the matter himself.

Outraged and frustrated by events as she was, Levy had to admit she could not entirely blame Metalicana for taking such a course of action. In his position, she would have done the same. The portion of the revenues to which he was entitled as Desire's liege lord were too plump and healthy to be put at risk.

And Levy could not risk the lives of the men from the village who accompanied the shipments of perfume. Sooner or later, the robbers were going to kill someone when they attacked.

In truth, she had no choice and she knew it. She had a duty and an obligation to the people of Desire. Her mother, who had died when Levy was twelve, had taught her from the cradle that the wishes of the lady of the manor came second to the needs of her people and the lands that sustained them.

Levy knew full well that although she possessed the skills to keep Desire a fat and profitable estate, she was no trained warrior.

There were no household knights, nor even any men-at-arms left on Desire. The few who had once lived in the hall had dispersed over the years. Some had accompanied her brother Edmund to the tournaments and had not returned to the isle after he had been killed. Desire, after all, was not a very exciting place. It did not suit young knights and squires who were eager for glory and the profits to be made competing in the endless round of tournaments or by going on Crusade.

The last two men-at-arms who had lived on Desire had journeyed to Spain with Levy's father, Sir McGarden. They had sent word back to her of her father's death, but they themselves had not returned. With their lord dead, they had been freed of their vows of fealty. They had found new masters in the south.

Levy did not have the least notion of how to go about obtaining a reliable troop of armed men, let alone how to train them and control them.

The first letter of warning from Metalicana had arrived six weeks ago. It had been politely worded, full of gracious condolences on the death of Sir McGarden. But there had been no mistaking the implications of the veiled comments concerning the defense of Desire. The second letter had made it clear that Levy must wed.

Levy, much to her annoyance, had reached the same decision.

Knowing that marriage was inevitable, Levy had done what she always did when it came to matters of duty. She had set about fulfilling her responsibilities.

In typical fashion, however, she had taken charge of the situation in her own way.

If she was to be saddled with the encumbrance of a husband, she had told Lucy and Kinana, she was determined to have some say about the man she would wed.

"They are coming closer, Lady Levy," Happy yelled now from the gatehouse.

Levy brushed the fine dark earth of the convent garden from her hands. "I pray that you will excuse me, madam. I must get back to the hall so that I can change my clothing before my guests arrive. These fancy knights from the south will no doubt expect to be received with a certain amount of ceremony."

"As well they should," Kinana said. "I know you are not looking forward to this marriage with any enthusiasm. But be of good cheer, my child. Remember, there will most likely be three, possibly even four candidates. You will have a goodly choice."

Levy slid her old friend and teacher a quick, searching glance. She lowered her voice so that neither Happy nor the porteress at the nearby gatehouse could overhear. "And if I do not care for any of the three or four suitors Lord Metalicana has sent?"

"Why, then, we shall have to ask ourselves if you are merely being extremely selective, mayhap even too particular about the choice of a lord for Desire, or if you are seeking excuses not to go through with the thing."

Levy made a face and then gave Kinana a rueful grin. "You are always so practical and straightforward, madam. You have a way of going to the heart of the matter."

"It has been my experience that a woman who is practical and honest in her reasoning, especially when she is arguing with herself, generally accomplishes more than one who is not."

"Aye, so you have always taught me, madam." Levy straightened her shoulders. "I shall continue to bear your words of wisdom in mind."

"Your mother would have been proud of you, my child."

Levy noticed that Kinana did not mention her father. There was no need. They were both well aware that Sir McGarden had never been interested in the management of his lands. He had left such mundane matters to his wife and later his daughter, while he himself had pursued his scholarly studies and experiments.

A loud shout went up from the street on the other side of the convent wall. Voices rose in wonder and excitement as the villagers gathered to see the new arrivals.

Happy shoved his packet of crackers into the pouch that hung from his belt and hastened over to a low bench that stood against the wall.

Too late Levy realize what he had in mind. "Happy, don't you dare climb up on top of that wall. You know what your mother would say."

"Don't worry, I won't fall. I just want to see the knights and their huge horses." Happy got up on top of the bench and started to hoist his small frame atop the stone wall.

Levy groaned and exchanged a resigned glance with Kinana. There was no doubt but that Happy's overprotective mother would have had a fit if she were present. Lucy was convinced that Happy was delicate and must not be allowed to take any risks.

"Lady Lucy is not here," Kinana said dryly, as if Levy had spoken aloud. "So I suggest you ignore the matter."

"If Happy falls, Lucy will never forgive me."

"One of these days she'll have to stop coddling the lad." Kinana shrugged philosophically. "If she does not cease hovering over him like a mother hen with her chick, he's going to turn into a fearful, anxious young man."

"I know, but one cannot entirely blame Lucy for wanting to protect Happy " Levy said quietly. "She's lost everyone else. She cannot bear the risk of losing her son, too."

"I can see them." Happy swung one leg over the top of the wall. "They're already in the street." He shaded his eyes against the spring sunlight. "The giant gray horse is in front of the rest. I vow, the knight who rides the beast is almost as big as his horse."

Levy frowned. "I requested candidates of moderate size and stature."

"He is wearing a shiny helm and a mail hauberk," Happy exclaimed. "And he carries a silvery shield that glitters like a great minor in the sun."

"A great mirror?" Intrigued, Levy hurried forward along the garden path to see the newcomers for herself.

"It is very strange, my lady. Everything about the knight is silver or gray—even his clothing and his horse's trappings are gray. It is as though he and his stallion were fashioned entirely of silver and smoke."

"Silver and smoke?" Levy looked up at Happy. "Your imagination is running off with your wits."

"'Tis true, I swear it." Happy sounded genuinely awed by the sight he was witnessing.

Levy's curiosity grew swiftly. "Just how big is this smoke and silver knight?"

"He is very, very big," Happy reported from his perch. "And the knight who rides behind him is almost as large."

"That will not do at all." Levy went to the gate and peered out into the street. Her view was blocked by the throng of excited villagers.


	3. Chapter 2

Word of the newcomers' arrival had spread quickly. Virtually everyone had turned out to witness the grand spectacle of a troop of mounted knights on Desire. John Blacksmith, Robert Cooper, Alice the brewer, and three muscular farmers stood in Levy's way. All of them were taller than she was.

"Do not alarm yourself about the matter of this gray knight's size." Kinana came up to stand beside Levy. Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "Once again, we must allow for young Happy's somewhat limited experience of the world. Any knight astride a horse would appear huge to him. It's all that armor that makes them seem so large."

"Yes, I know. Still, I would like very much to see this gray knight for myself." Levy measured the height from the bench to the top of the wall with her eyes. "Happy, prepare to give me a hand."

Happy tore his gaze away from the sights long enough to glance down at her. "Do you wish to sit up here on the wall with me, Lady Levy?"

"Aye. If I remain down here, I shall be the last person on the isle to see the invasion." Levy lifted the skirts of her long-waisted overtunic and stepped up onto the bench.

Kinana gave a small snort of disapproval. "Really, Levy, this is extremely unseemly. Only think how embarrassed you will be if one of your suitors sees you comporting yourself like a village hoyden up there on the wall. He might chance to recognize you later at your hall."

"No one will notice me sitting up here. From the sound of it, our visitors are far too occupied with putting on a fine show for the village. I mean to see the performance for myself."

Levy grasped the edge of the wall, found a chink in the stones with the toe of her soft leather boot, and struggled to pull herself up beside Happy.

"Have a care, my lady." Happy leaned down to catch hold of her arm.

"Do not concern yourself," Levy panted as she swung first one leg and then the other over the broad stone wall. "I may be older than ye, but I can still climb walls." She grinned at Happy as she righted herself and adjusted her skirts. "There, you see? I did it. Now, then, where is this knight made of silver and smoke?"

"He's at the top of the street." Happy pointed toward the harbor. "Listen to the thunder of the horses' hooves. 'Tis as if a great, howling tempest were blowing in off the sea."

"They are certainly making sufficient noise to wake the dead." Levy pushed back the hood of her mantle and turned to look toward the top of the narrow street.

The rumble and thunder of hooves was closer now. The villagers grew quiet in anticipation.

And then Levy saw the knight and the stallion fashioned of silver and smoke. She caught her breath, suddenly comprehending Happy's awe.

Man and horse alike appeared to be composed of all the elements of a magnificent storm: wind, rain, and lightning made solid flesh. It needed only a single glance to know that this bleak, gray fury, once roused, would be capable of destroying anything that lay in its path.

For a moment the sight of the silver-and-smoke knight left Levy as speechless as it had the villagers in the street below. A desperate sinking sensation seized her stomach as she realized that she was undoubtedly looking at one of her suitors.

Too big, she thought. Much too large. And too dangerous. Definitely the wrong man.

The gray knight rode at the head of a company of seven men. The group was made up of knights, men-at-arms, and one or two servants. Levy gazed curiously at the warriors who rode behind the great gray war machine. She had seen very few fighting men in her time, but she knew enough to be aware that most of them favored strong, brilliant hues in their attire.

These men all followed the fashion of their leader. They were dressed in somber shades of gray and red and black, which somehow made them seem all the more lethal.

The new arrivals were very close now. They filled the narrow street. Banners snapped in the breeze. Levy could hear the squeak and glide of steel on leather. Harness and armor moved together in well-oiled rhythms.

The heavily shod horses came forward like the huge engines of battle that they were. They moved at a slow, relentless pace that underscored their power and made certain that all those present had ample opportunity to view the spectacle.

Levy stared at the strange sight with the same degree of amazement as everyone else. She was vaguely aware of low-voiced whispers rising and falling across the crowd in a wave that had its starting point at the small stone cell that housed the village recluse.

Fascinated by the mounted men in the street, Levy ignored the low murmurs at first. But as the whispers grew in volume, they finally drew her attention.

"What are they saying, Happy?"

"I don't know. Something about steel I think."

Levy glanced over her shoulder toward the cell, which was built into the convent wall. Porlyusica the recluse lived there, having chosen to become an anchorite nearly ten years earlier. According to the dictates of the religious path she followed, she never emerged from her cell.

As a professional recluse, Porlyusica was supposed to dedicate herself entirely to prayer and meditation, but the truth was, she devoted herself to village gossip. She was never short of that commodity because during the day nearly everyone passed by her window. Many stopped to talk or seek advice. Whenever someone paused to visit, Porlyusica dealt with that individual the way a milkmaid dealt with a cow. She drained her visitor for every tidbit of information.

Porlyusica also performed the offices of her calling, which included offering advice to all who came to her window, with great zeal Not infrequently she offered advice even though none had been requested. She favored predictions of dark foreboding and was quick to warn against impending doom and disaster.

Occasionally she was right.

"What are they saying?" Kinana called up to Levy.

"I'm not certain yet." Levy strained to hear the rising tide of whispers. "Happy says it's something about Steel I think the recluse started the talk."

"Then we had best disregard it," Kinana said.

"Listen," Happy interrupted. "You can make out the words now."

The crest of the whispers raced forward, riding the sea of villagers.

"… Kurogane (black steel):'

"They say he be Kurogane from someplace in the south. I did not catch the name …"

"Kurogane of Wyckmere?"

"Aye, that's it, Wyckmere. He is known as Kurogane of Wyckmere. 'Tis said he carries a great sword named the Iron God Sword"

Happy's eyes widened. He shivered with the thrill of the whispered words and promptly reached into his belt pouch for another handful of crackers "Did you hear that, Lady Levy?" he asked "Kurogane of Wyckmere."

"Aye." Levy noticed that several people in the crowd crossed themselves as the news reached them, but the glitter of awestruck excitement did not fade from their expressions. If anything, she realized with dismay, the villagers appeared more enthralled than ever by the oncoming knights.

When all was said and done, Levy thought, her people were an ambitious lot. They were no doubt envisioning the prestige that would devolve upon them if they were to gain a lord who wore the trappings of a fearsome reputation.

A reputation was well and good, Levy reflected, unless one was obliged to marry it.

"Kurogane of Wyckmere," Happy breathed with a reverence that by rights ought to have been reserved for a prayer or a holy vision. "He must be a very great knight, indeed."

"What I would like to know," Levy said, "is where are the others?"

"What others?"

Levy scowled at the approaching riders. "There are supposed to be at least three other knights from which I shall choose a husband. These men all appear to ride beneath one man's banner."

"Aye, well, this Kurogane of Wyckmere is nearly as large as three men put together," Happy said with great satisfaction. "We don't need any others."

Levy narrowed her eyes. Kurogane was not that big, she thought, but he was certainly formidable-looking. He was not at all of the moderate proportions she had requested.

The gray knight and his entourage were almost in front of her now. Whatever else could be said, the new arrivals were providing a wondrous entertainment for all present. It would be interesting to see if the other suitors could improve upon this display of steel and power.

She was so caught up in the unusual sights and sounds of the event that she barely noticed another ripple of whispers as it washed through the crowd. She thought she heard her own name spoken, but she paid no attention. As the lady of Desire, she was accustomed to having her people discuss her. It was the way of things.

Kinana peered up at her. "Levy, you had best return immediately to your hall. If you stay up here on the wall, you will not be able to get back in time to receive this grand knight in a proper manner."

"'Tis too late now, madam." Levy raised her voice to be heard over the din of voices and thudding hooves. "I shall have to wait until they have gone past before I can make my way through the street. I am trapped here until the crowd has dispersed. Lucy and the servants will see to the business of greeting our visitors."

"What are you saying?" Kinana chided. "Lucy and the servants can hardly provide the sort of welcome the future lord of Desire will be expecting."

Levy turned her head and grinned down at Kinana "Ah, but we do not know if this gray knight will be the future lord of Desire, do we? In fact, I think it highly unlikely. From what I can see, he is not at all the right size."

"Size, my child, is the least of it," Kinana muttered.

The thunder of hooves and the rattle of harness ceased abruptly. An astonished gasp from Happy and the sudden hush that had fallen over the throng brought Levy's head back around very swiftly.

She was astonished to see that the troop of mounted men, which had been making slow, stately progress through the center of the village, had came to a complete halt right in the middle of the street.

Directly in front of where she sat on the wall.

Levy swallowed uneasily when she realized that the gray knight was looking straight at her. Her first instinct was to slide back over the edge of the wall and drop discreetly out of sight into the garden.

But it was too late to flee. She would have to brave it out.

Levy was suddenly acutely conscious of her dirt-stained gown and windblown hair. Her palms grew moist as she gripped the edge of the sun-warmed stone wall.

Surely he wasn't looking at her.

He could not be looking at her.

There was no reason she should have caught the attention of the gray knight. She was just a woman sitting on a wall watching the spectacle along with the rest of the villagers.

But he was looking at her.

An odd stillness settled over the scene as the silver-and-smoke knight gazed thoughtfully at Levy for an endless moment. It seemed to her that even the very breeze had ceased. The leaves of the trees in the convent garden hung motionless. Not a sound could be heard, not even the snap of a banner.

Levy looked into shadowed, unreadable eyes framed by a steel helm, and prayed that Kurogane of Wyckmere would take her for one of the villagers.

At some unseen command, the great dappled gray stallion started toward the convent wall. Those who stood in the beast's way instantly melted aside to clear a path. Everyone's eyes went straight to Levy.

"He's coming over here, my lady," Happy squeaked. "Mayhap he recognizes you."

"But we have never met." Levy's fingers tightened on the stone. "He cannot know who I am."

Happy opened his mouth to say something else but closed it abruptly again when the massive war-horse halted directly in front of Levy. The gray knight's gaze was level with her own.

Levy looked deeply into brilliant, unsmiling eyes that were the color of crimson blood. She knew in that moment that the gray knight was aware of her identity.

Levy held her breath, trying frantically to think of a clever way to deal with the situation. She had never faced such an awkward moment in her life.

"I seek the lady of Desire," the knight said.

A curious tremor flashed through Levy at the sound of his voice. She did not know why she reacted so strangely to it, because it certainly suited him. It was low and dark and vibrant with controlled power.

She clutched at the stone in order to keep her fingers from trembling. Then she raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. She was mistress of this manor and she intended to conduct herself in a manner that befitted that title, even if she was facing the most formidable-looking man she had ever met in her life.


	4. Chapter 3

"I am she whom you seek, sir. Who are you?"

"I am Gajeel of Wyckmere."

Levy remembered the whispers. The Hellhound of Wyckmere. "I have heard that you are called by another name;"

"I am called by many other names, but I do not answer to all of them."

There was a clear warning in the words. Levy heard it and decided to fall back upon the safety of good manners. She inclined her head in a civil fashion.

"I bid you welcome to Desire, Sir Gajeel. Allow me to thank you on behalf of the entire village for the fine entertainment you have provided for us this day. We are rarely fortunate enough to be allowed to view such grand spectacles here in our small village."

"I am pleased that you are satisfied with what has transpired thus far, my lady. I trust you will be equally pleased with the remainder of the performance." Gajeel released the reins, raised his mailed hands, and removed his helm.

He did not glance over his shoulder nor give any signal that Levy could see. He merely held the gleaming helm out to the side. Another knight rode forward at once, took the steel helm from Gajeel's hand, and retreated back to join the other warriors.

Levy studied Gajeel with a curiosity she could not completely conceal, even for the sake of good manners. This was one of the men who had been sent to vie for her hand, after all. She was surprised to discover that something deep within her was oddly satisfied by the look of him.

He was definitely too large, but somehow that glaring fault did not seem quite as alarming now as it had when she had composed her recipe for a husband. The reason was obvious. In spite of his size and obvious physical power, something told her that this was not a man who would rely on brute strength alone to obtain his ends.

Gajeel of Wyckmere was obviously a trained knight, well versed in the bloody arts of war, but he was no thick-skulled fool. Levy could see that much in his face.

The sunlight gleamed on his heavy, long mane of black hair. There was that about his fierce, stony features which reminded Levy of the great cliffs that protected her beloved isle.

This was a man who had fought for everything he wanted in life.

He watched Levy as she examined him. He did not appear to object to her scrutiny. He simply sat waiting calmly and patiently for judgment in a manner which suggested that the verdict did not concern him. It struck her then that he had his own ends and he intended to achieve them regardless of her decisions and conclusions.

That realization worried Levy. Kurogane of Wyckmere would not be easily denied once he had determined upon a goal.

But then, she could be just as determined in the pursuit of her own goals, Levy reminded herself. For all intents and purposes she had been in command of this isle and everything on it since the age of twelve.

"Well, my lady?" Gajeel said. "Are you satisfied with your future lord?"

Her future lord? Levy blinked in amazement. She did not know whether to laugh or scold him for his arrogance. She settled on a polite but distinctly cold smile.

"I cannot say," Levy murmured. "I have not yet met the other candidates for the position."

"You are mistaken, madam. There are only two, myself and Sir Laxus of Dreyar."

Levy's lips parted in shock. "But that's not possible. I requested a selection of at least three or four knights."

"We do not always get what we request in this life, do we?"

"But you do not meet any of my requirements, sir," Levy sputtered. "I mean no offense, but you are not precisely the right size. And you appear to be very much a man of war, not a man of peace." She glowered at him. "Furthermore, I do not gain the impression that you are of a cheerful temperament."

"My size I can do nothing about. And 'tis true that I have been well trained in the art of war, but I swear to you that I seek a quiet, peaceful life. As for my temperament, who is to say? A man can change, can he not?"

"I'm not at all certain of that," Levy said warily.

"I can read."

"Well, that is something, I suppose. Nevertheless—"

"My lady, it has been my experience that we all must learn to make do with what is granted to us."

"No one knows that better than I," Levy said icily. "Sir, I shall be blunt. You have come a long way and given us a fine show. I do not wish to disappoint you, but in all fairness, I fear I must tell you that you are very unlikely to qualify for the position of lord of Desire. Mayhap it would be best if you and your men left on the same boats that brought you here."

"Nay, lady. I have waited too long and come too far. I am here to claim my future. I have no intention of leaving."

"But I must insist—"

There was a soft, deadly sigh of sound. Gajeel's sword appeared in his hand as if by magic. The swift, terrifying movement brought a collective gasp from the crowd. Levy halted in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes widened.

Sunlight danced and flashed on steel as Gajeel held the blade aloft.

Once again everything and everyone seemed to freeze into utter stillness.

It was young Happy who managed to shatter the spell.

"You must not hurt my lady," he yelled at Gajeel. "I will not let you hurt her."

The crowd was as stunned by Happy's boldness as it was at the sight of the drawn blade.

"Hush, Happy," Levy whispered.

Gajeel looked at Happy. "You are very brave, boy. There are those who flee in fear when they gaze at the Iron God Sword."

It was clear that Happy was frightened, but he wore an expression of stubborn determination. He glared at Gajeel. "Do not hurt her."

"I will not hurt her," Gajeel said. "Indeed, as her future lord, I am well pleased to see that she has had such a bold protector to watch over her until my arrival. I am in your debt, lad."

Happy's expression became one of uncertainty.

Gajeel reversed the sword with another lightning' swift movement. He extended the blade, hilt first, toward Levy in an unmistakable gesture of homage and respect. He waited, along with everyone else, for her to take hold of the weapon.

A murmur of astonishment and approval swept through the crowd. Levy heard it. She sensed Happy's barely contained excitement. The expectant tension in the atmosphere was overwhelming.

To refuse the sword would be a move fraught with risk. There was no telling how Gajeel would react or what his mounted warriors might do to retaliate. They could destroy the entire village in a matter of minutes.

To accept the blade, however, was to give Gajeel and everyone else cause to believe that his suit would be favorably received.

It was a trap. A rather neat one, Levy had to admit, but definitely a trap. It was a snare with only two exits, both of which were dangerous. And it had been very deliberately set. But then, she had known from the first that this was a man who used his wits as well as his strength to gain his ends.

Levy looked down at the hilt of the polished length of steel. She saw that the pommel was set with a large chunk of rock crystal. The cloudy gray stone appeared to be filled with silvery smoke from unseen fires.

Knowing that there was no way out of the trap, Levy chose one of the only two options available. Slowly she reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword. The weapon was so heavy that she had to use both hands to hold it.

A great cry of jubilation went up from the crowd. Happy grinned. Cheers filled the air. Armor clashed and rang as the mounted knights and men-at-arms brandished their lances and struck their shields.

Levy looked at Gajeel and felt as if she had just stepped off one of the high cliffs of Desire.

Gajeel reached out with his huge, mail-covered hands, caught her up, and swept her off the wall. The world spun around Levy. She very nearly dropped the big sword.

An instant later she found herself settled safely across the saddle in front of Kurogane She was steadied by a mail-clad arm the size of a tree. She looked up and saw the satisfaction blazing in Gajeel's eyes.

Levy wondered why she felt as if she were still falling.

Gajeel raised one hand to summon a knight. A hard-faced warrior rode forward.

"Aye, Sir Gajeel?"

"Patherlily" Gajeel pitched his voice so that his man could hear it above the thundering cheers of the crowd. "Escort my lady's noble protector in a manner which befits his excellent service."

"Aye." Patherlily eased his mount closer to the wall and held out his arms to seize Happy by the waist. He lifted the lad off the wall and settled him onto his saddle bow.

Levy saw Happy's eyes grow huge as he was carried off through the crowd astride the massive war-horse. She realized with wry chagrin that Gajeel had just gained a loyal follower for life.

Levy listened to the exultant shouts of her people as Kurogane of Wyckmere walked his gray stallion through the crowded street. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Kinana standing in the gatehouse entryway.

The prioress waved cheerfully.

Levy clutched the Iron God Sword and considered carefully the excellently set snare in which she had been caught.


	5. Chapter 4

"Presenting the Iron God Sword to the lady was a pretty gesture." Pantherlily grinned as he watched Gajeel soap himself in the large bathing tub. "Quite unlike you, if I may say so."

"I'll say, I would haven't believed it if I didn't see it with my own two eyes" Natsu exclaimed pouring water on his hair

"You think me incapable of pretty gestures?" Gajeel shoved his wet hair out of his eyes and looked at his trusted friends.

Pantherlily lounged on a cushioned window seat. The sunlight shone on his short black hair A seasoned knight some six years older than Gajeel, Pantherlily was a heavily muscled man of surprisingly handsome countenance.

Lord Metalicana had hired Pantherlily to be Gajeel's mentor when Gajeel had turned sixteen. The older man was both a thoughtful tactician and a skilled warrior. He had been present the day Gajeel had won his spurs and the knighthood that went with them. The event had followed a violent encounter with a band of Bandits who had been terrifying villagers on some of Metalicana's lands. That was how he meet the man know as Salamander.

Salamander was abandoned by his father, and was found by the group of Bandits. They raised him and taught him the basics of using a sword. Over the years he became arrogant because he had been able to defeat many other knights who were sent by Metalicana, however he was not prepared for when Gajeel appeared ready to fight.

The blood of his comrades spattered across Gajeel's chest and face. The demonic grin that was on his face that sent shivers down salamander's spine, but it was not just his demonic appearance that scared him... No, it was the fact that he had killed his comrades without a second thought, with no mercy or remorse is what scarred him the most. Salamander raised his short to bock against Gajeel's strike however he was too strong and Salamander's sword went flying and Gajeel sliced the upper half of his body leaving a large wound. Salamander faded in and out of conscience before passing out.

Salamander awoke in a large bed and saw a man with short black hair who noticed he had awoke and called in the very man who put him in the pain he was in now.

"What do you want with me?" Salamander demanded, he simply ignored the question

"What is you name?" He asked taking out a quill and paper

"I have no obligations to tell you"

"I just saved your life, and yet you won't allow me to know your name." Salamander looked at the man for a few moments and then decided to

speak

"I'm Salamander Dragneel, but everyone calls me Natsu."

"Your age?"

"I am of 16, why would you care aren't you going to kill me?"

"If I was going to kill you I wouldn't have bothered for your name, I want you to become on of my vassals"

"Why would you want me of all people?"

"I see talent when it appears. It is basically you become my vassal, or I turn you in and you spend the rest of your life rotting away in a jail call" Natsu weighted the two options in his head being sure to make the best decision

"Fine i'll become you vassal," He said with a Determined glare.

The three had been together since that day. Their association was founded on friendship and anchored by trust and mutual respect. Gajeel had learned a great deal from Pantherlily in the beginning and he still listened to the other man's advice. But somewhere along the way their relationship had gradually became that of professionals who dealt with each other as equals.

It was Gajeel who now gave the commands, however.

It was Gajeel who had gathered a tightly knit, well-disciplined band of men around him and shaped them into a formidable weapon whose services went for a very high price.

It was Gajeel who had selected potential employers and decided how and when to sell the services of his men.

He had assumed the role of leader not because of his connection to Metalicana of Landry, but simply because it seemed natural for all concerned. For Gajeel, the will to command was inherent, as unquestioned an impulse as breathing.

Panther Lily had no great interest in the position of leader. His was an independent nature. He swore fealty to those of his own choosing and the lord to whom he gave his loyalty could be assured of unswerving service. Four years earlier Panther Lily had sworn fealty to Kurogane of Wyckmere.

Panther Lily knew Gajeel better than anyone, including Metalicana. He was well aware that Gajeel had never before offered the Iron God Sword to man or woman, lord or lady, master or mistress.

"I will admit that you have a way with grand and impressive gestures." Panther Lily stroked his jaw thoughtfully. "With you, such gestures always conceal clever traps. But this was an unusual move, even for you."

"It was an unusual situation." Natsu Replies

"Still, it was merely another snare, was it not? You left the lady little alternative but to accept the Iron God Sword"

Gajeel shrugged.

"It would have been awkward if she had turned the blade on you and tried to run it through your gut." Natsu said

"She was hardly likely to do that. The greater risk was that she would refuse to accept it." Gajeel held the scented soap to his nose and sniffed cautiously. "Does it seem to you that everything here on Desire smells of flowers?"

"The whole damned isle smells like a garden. I vow, even the village ditch is perfumed."

"It appeared that it was linked to the sea through a channel of some sort." Gajeel frowned thoughtfully. "The refuse is no doubt washed out with the tide. The garderobes here in the hall empty into a similar sort of system. Very interesting."

"I have never understood your curiosity about clever devices." Natsu drew in a long breath, inhaling the scent of spring that poured through the open window behind him. "Tell me, what would you have done if the lady had refused the blade?" Panther Lily asked

"It no longer matters, does it? She did take the blade."

"And sealed her fate, is that what you believe? I would not be too certain of that, my friend. I have a feeling that the lady of Desire is a resourceful female. From what you have told me, 'tis she who has kept this manor so fat and profitable."

"Aye. Her mother taught her the secrets of perfume making. Her brother apparently spent all his time riding from one tournament to another until he finally got himself killed. Her father was a scholar who had no interest in managing his lands. He preferred to spend his time in Spain translating Arab treatises."

Panther Lily smiled slightly. "What a pity you never made his acquaintance. The two of you would have had much to discuss."

"Aye." Gajeel felt a sudden surge of satisfaction. Once wed, he would retire from hunting outlaws and return to his first love—hunting the treasures buried in books and manuscripts, such as those Levy's father had collected. Water cascaded off his big frame as he stood and reached for a drying cloth. "Hell's teeth. I smell like a budding rose."

Panther Lily grinned. "Mayhap your new lady will appreciate the scent. Tell me, how did you guess that the wench on the convent wall was in truth the mistress of Desire?"

Gajeel made a small, dismissing movement with one hand while he dried his hair with the cloth. "'Twas obvious she was the right age. And she was better dressed than any of the villagers."

"Aye. Nevertheless—"

"She bore herself with an air of confidence and authority. I knew that she must be either an inhabitant of the convent who had not yet taken the veil, or the lady of the manor. I gambled on the latter."

Gajeel recalled his first view of Levy. From his position astride his stallion, he had noticed her as she clambered up to sit atop the stone wall. She had been a lithe, graceful figure dressed in a orange gown and saffron mantle. The neck, hem, and sleeves of her tunic had been embroidered in white and yellow, as had the wide girdle. The latter had rested low on her hips, emphasizing a narrow waist and the womanly flare of her thighs.

To Gajeel, the woman on the wall had been the embodiment of spring itself, as fresh and vivid as the fields of roses and lavender which carpeted the isle.

Her shoulder length, blue hair, loosely secured by a hair band, had gleamed with a rich luster in the sun. But it was her face which had caught and held his attention. Her striking, fine-boned features had been as alight with unabashed curiosity and excitement as the face of the lad who sat beside her. A gracious but unmistakable pride glowed in her expression, the look of a woman accustomed to command.

Her huge brown eyes, however, had held a deep wariness. His own falcon-sharp gaze, schooled by years spent hunting outlaws to note the smallest of details, had not missed that look of caution. It had, in fact, provided him with the final clue to her true identity.

The well-dressed lady on the wall had a very personal interest in the knights who were invading her domain.

Gajeel knew that he had taken a calculated risk when he had decided to ride over to the wall to confront her. He had been a little concerned that she would slip back into the convent garden. But she had done no such thing. As he suspected, she possessed far too much feminine arrogance to retreat.

He had noticed the dirt on her gown as he rode toward her, and told himself it was a good omen. The lady of Desire was not above getting her hands dirty.

Gajeel shook off the memories. He tossed aside the herb-scented linen drying cloth and reached for a fresh gray tunic.


	6. Chapter 5

As he dressed, he glanced at one of the large tapestries that warmed the stone walls of the chamber. Flowers and herbs, the source of Desire's profits, appeared to be a common theme everywhere on the isle, he noted. Even the beautifully woven hangings depicted garden scenes.

This was a land of scented blooms and lush greenery. Who would have guessed that Kurogane of Wyckmere would come to such a pretty, sweet-smelling place to claim his own hearth? Gajeel thought.

But he was well satisfied with the Isle of Desire. He sensed that it held that which he sought.

He fastened his long leather belt around his hips and then he padded barefooted past one of the narrow windows cut into the stone wall. The warm, perfumed breeze made him think of Levy's hair.

Gajeel had been obliged to inhale the scent of her blue tresses as he had carried her before him through the village and along the road to the hall.

The smell of flowers had blended with but had not disguised the sweet, intriguing scent that was hers and hers alone. The fragrance had captivated Gajeel She smelled like no other woman he had ever known.

The subtle, heady perfume combined with the feel of her softly rounded hips pressed against his leg had done something to Gajeel's insides. A deep, powerful hunger had stirred to life within him.

His brows drew together and his jaw tightened as he recalled the raw force of that hunger. He would have to make certain it stayed within bounds. He had not survived this long by allowing his emotions to rule him.

Panther Lily caught his eye at that moment. "So you knew the lady of Desire on sight?" He shook his short, wet hair with wry admiration. "I congratulate you, Gajeel. As usual, you were quick to add the facts together and determine the correct sum."

"It was not very difficult." Gajeel sat down on a stool to pull on leather boots. "Enough of that discussion. I'm interested to hear whatever you learned about the kidnapping incident."

"There is not much to tell. As you know, I downed a few mugs of ale with the crowd at the local tavern in Dreyar last night. The most interesting thing I learned is that all parties concerned, including Sir Laxus, his entire household, and the lady herself, insist that there was no kidnapping."

Gajeel shrugged. "Only to be expected. A lady's reputation is involved."

"Aye. The tale is that she made an unexpected visit to Sir Laxus which lasted four days."

"After which he offered marriage?"

"Aye. The lady refused." Panther Lily chuckled. "You must admit that took courage under the circumstances."

"That it did. Most women would have yielded to the inevitable." Satisfaction flowed through Gajeel. His future bride was not one to collapse in the face of blatant intimidation. He approved of that sort of courage.

Up to a point.

"By way of excuse she told him that her guardian, Metalicana of Landry, had agreed to allow her to choose her own husband."

"That must have been when she decided to write to my father and request a selection of candidates for the position."

"No doubt."

"It also explains why my father instructed me to waste no time claiming my bride." Gajeel reflected on that briefly. "He suspects that Laxus will soon make another attempt to get his hands on Desire."

"A second kidnapping might not be so easy to brush aside." Panther Lily paused briefly. "As a matter of curiosity, what do you intend to do about Laxus?"

"Nothing for now. I do not expect that Levy will willingly charge him with kidnapping or rape, even though she is now safe."

"She has her reputation to consider. As do you, Gajeel. The lady will not thank you for dragging her honor through the mud."

"Nay. And I have other concerns at the moment. I will deal with Laxus later."

Laxus of Dreyar would pay for what he had done, but that payment would be made at a place and hour of Gajeel's choosing. Kurogane of Wyckmere sometimes took his time when it came to exacting revenge, but sooner or later, he always claimed it.

He had his own reputation to consider.

Panther Lily got to his feet, turned toward the window, and braced his hands on the ledge. He looked out over the fields of flowers that lay beyond the old wooden curtain wall that surrounded the hall. He drew a deep breath of the fresh, flowery air.

"'Tis a most unusual land you have come to claim," Panther Lily said. "And a most unusual lady. To say nothing of the rest of the household."

"Aye. What is the boy to Lady Levy?"

"Happy?" Panther Lily smiled. "A spirited lad, is he not? He could do with some exercise, though. He has a fondness for fish."

"Aye."

"He and his mother, the Lady Lucy, both live here at the hall. Lady Lucy is a widow."

Gajeel glanced at Panther Lily. "The boy is all Lady Lucy has left?"

"It seems her husband sold everything he owned, including his lands in the north, to raise money for his adventures in the Holy Land. He managed to get himself killed there. They were left penniless."

"So Lady Lucy came to Desire seeking a place for herself and her son in this hall?"

"Aye." Panther Lily's expression turned speculative. "I have the impression that your lady is very softhearted about such matters."

"Is that so?"

"Lucy and her son are not the only ones to whom she has given a home. Her elderly marshal, who should have been replaced years ago, by the looks of him, and her old nurse still live here, too. Apparently they had nowhere else to go."

"Any other strays about?"

Panther Lily frowned slightly. "Happy said that a couple of months ago a young minstrel and jester showed up on the hall doorstep. Levy took them in, too. They will no doubt entertain us this evening. Happy told me that Levy is very fond of love songs."

Gajeel reflected on Levy's recipe for a husband. "I feared as much."

"The minstrel's name is Jet and the Jester is Droy. An Happy informs me that the duo is devoted to their new lady."

"They are a great nuisance with their silly songs of seduction and cuckoldry."

"The ladies love such ballads."

"There will be no songs of that sort sung here," Gajeel said quietly. "See that those two are instructed in that regard."

"Aye, sir." Panther Lily's teeth flashed in a grin before he turned back to the window.

Gajeel ignored his companion's ill-concealed mirth. As usual, he did not pretend to comprehend what Panther Lily found so vastly entertaining. The important thing was that Gajeel knew his orders would be carried out.

Satisfied that he was once again clean and clothed in fresh garments, Gajeel strode toward the door of the chamber. "I believe it is time for me to present myself again to my future wife. She and I have much to discuss."

"You will find her in her garden."

Gajeel looked back over his shoulder. "How do you know that?"

"Because I can see her from here." Panther Lily gazed down through the open window. A smile still hovered about his thin lips. "She is addressing her loyal household. I'll wager that she is giving them instructions for the defense of the hall."

"What in the name of the devil are you talking about? This hall is not under attack."

"That, my friend, is clearly a matter of opinion. It seems to me that your lady is preparing to withstand a siege."

"From me?"

"Aye."


	7. Chapter 6

"All of the men and horses are properly settled?" Levy frowned intently as she paced the garden in front of her assembled household.

Her makeshift family, composed of people who had no other home, sat on the stone bench beneath the apple tree or stood nearby.

Happy, his face still aglow from his first ride astride a real war-horse, was positioned on the bench between his mother, Lucy, Droy, and Jet.

Mirajane, the marshal of the hall, stood at the end of the bench, had an expression one of great uneasiness. She had good reason to be alarmed. As marshal, she was charged with the day-to-day tasks of running the household. She was the one who had to make certain that the kitchens were supplied with the vast quantities of food required to feed the new arrivals. It was also her responsibility to ensure that the servants saw to such matters as preparing baths, mending clothes, and cleaning the garderobes.

It was all a great nuisance, Levy thought.

"Oh, aye, my lady. Certainly. Indeed." Mirajane straightened her shoulders and made an obvious effort to appear in control of the situation.

"I am amazed that you found room for so many. I trust I shall not find any of these great oafs sleeping on the stairs or in my solar?"

"Nay, my lady," Mirajane assured her earnestly. "There were chambers enough for his lordship and some of the others on the upper floors. The rest will sleep on pallets in the main hall or in the stables. Rest assured all will be carried out properly."

"Calm yourself, Levy." Lucy looked up from her needlework and smiled. "All is under control."

Lucy wasn't older than Levy. She was a pretty woman with golden blond hair, soft brown eyes, and gentle features.

Married at the age of fifteen to a man who had been twenty years her senior, Lucy had soon found herself widowed and penniless with a small son.

Desperate, she had arrived on Levy doorstep three years earlier to claim a very distant relationship based on the fact that her mother and Levy's had once been close friends. Levy had taken Lucy and Happy into the household.

Lucy had immediately begun to contribute to the income of Desire by virtue of her brilliant needlework.

Levy had been quick to see the possibilities inherent in Lucy's talent. The revenues from the sale of Levy's dried flower and herb concoctions had increased markedly due to the fact that many were now sold in exquisitely embroidered pouches and bags of Lucy's design.

The demand had grown so great that Lucy had instructed several of the village women in the art of embroidery. Some of the nuns of Saint Hermione's also worked under her supervision to create elegantly made pouches for some of Levy's fragrance blends.

"Mirajane, inform cook that she must resist the temptation to dye all of the food blue or crimson or yellow tonight." Levy stalked along the graveled path, her hands clasped behind her back. "You know how much she likes to color the food for special occasions."

"Aye, madam. She says it impresses guests."

"I see no need to go out of our way to impress Sir Gajeel and his men," Levy muttered. "And personally, I do not much care for blue or crimson food."

"Yellow is a nice color, though," Levy mused. "When Abbess Hisui visited last fall, she was much struck by being served a banquet done entirely in yellow."

"It is one thing to entertain an abbess. Quite another to be bothered with a bunch of very large knights and their men-at-arms. By Hermione's sainted sandal, I'll not waste the vast quantity of saffron it would take to dye everything on the table yellow tonight. Saffron is very costly."

"You can afford it, Levy," Lucy murmured.

"That is beside the point."

Mirajane cleared her throat. "I shall speak to cook."

Levy continued to pace. The walled garden was usually a source of pleasure and serenity for her. The flower and herb beds had been carefully planted so as to achieve a complex and tantalizing mixture of scents.

Normally a stroll along the paths was a walk through an invisible world of enthralling, compelling fragrance. Levy's finely honed sense of smell delighted in the experience.

At the moment, however, all she could think about was the very unflowerlike, very unsettling, very masculine odor of Sir Gajeel, Kurogane of Wyckmere.

Beneath the earthy smells of sweat, leather, horse, wool, steel, and road dust that had cloaked Gajeel, had lain another scent, his own. During the ride from the village to the hall, Levy had been enveloped in that essence and she knew she would never forget it.

In some mysterious fashion that she could not explain, Gajeel had smelled right.

Her nose twitched in memory. There had certainly been nothing sweet-smelling about him, but her reaction had reminded Levy of the feeling she got when she had achieved the right blend of herbs, spices, and flowers for a new perfume recipe. There was a sense of completion, a sense of certainty.

The realization sent a shiver through her. Even Raymond de Coleville, the man she had once loved, had not smelled so right

"Was the Iron God Sword fearfully heavy?" Happy asked eagerly. "I could see that Kurogane let you to carry it all the way to the gates of the hall. Sir Natsu said that was most amazing."

"Did he, indeed?" Levy said.

"Sir Natsu said that Kurogane has never offered his sword to anyone else in the whole world," Happy continued, "let alone allowed anyone to carry it in a procession in front of a whole village."

"He did not allow me to carry it," Levy grumbled. "He more or less forced me to do so. He refused to take it from my hands until we reached the hall. I could hardly drop such a valuable blade into the dirt."

Lucy quirked a brow but did not raise her eyes from her needlework. "Why do you think he simply did not resheath it?"

"He claimed he could not get the thing back into its scabbard with me seated in front of him. And he refused to put me down from the beast. He said it would not be chivalrous. Hah. What arrogrance to discourse on the finer points of courtesy when he was, for all intents and purposes, holding me captive."

Lucy pursed her lips. "I have the distinct impression that his lordship does not lack boldness of any kind."

"Sir Natsu says that Kurogane is a very great knight who has destroyed scores of robbers and murderers in the south," Happy said. "Sir Natsu says he showed you great honor by allowing you to carry the Iron God Sword."

"It was an honor I could have done without," Levy said.

She knew full well why Gajeel had politely refused to take back his sword until they had arrived at the very steps of her hall. He had wanted to make certain that everyone along the way, from shepherd to laundress, witnessed the spectacle of the lady of Desire clutching Kurogane's great sword.

No, Kurogane had shown her no great honor, she thought. It had all been a very calculated gesture on his part.

"If you ask me, I do not believe he showed you any great honor, my lady," Droy deLevyd with passionate intensity. "On the contrary. He mocked you." Jet stated

Levy glanced at her new friends.

Droy was a tall, slim young man of the age of nineteen with black hair kept in an unusual, distinctive hairstyle, with a tuft of hair on top of his head jutting upwards and then curving frontwards, he has dark eyes and thin dark eyebrows pointing downwards at their outer edges; his rectangular-shaped face sported sharp features, with prominent donning a distinctive, dark jacket, with a single bandolier passing over his left shoulder. Possessing a high, light collar seemingly made of leafs, and jagged edges and cuffs yet again reminiscent of leafs, with a light stripe going down each of the sleeves

Jet is a slim, young man of average height with orange hair, kept jutting backwards at the sides of his head. He has a sharp face, a prominent, flat and defined nose pointing downwards, and distinctive teeth. Jet donned an open, light-brown coat with yellowish fur trimmings on its edges and sleeves, which reached down below his elbows. Below it was a high-collared purple shirt, with its collar mostly left open, which was sometimes seen left hanging over the checkered belt below it, with a rectangular buckle, and others tucked inside the baggy dark pants covering Jet's legs, in turn tucked inside dark boots. The most distinctive piece of his attire is probably the fancy, extremely high hat matching his coat, with a large brim.

The only time the seemed to find any inner calm was when they performed for her. But Levy could still see too many traces of the anxious, hunted look that had been in his eyes that first day when he had appeared at the hall.

The two men showed up on her door step begging for a place to stay and in turn they will work for her. Levy had taken one look at him and had known that whatever lay in the young men's past was not pleasant. She had taken them in on the spot.

Levy scowled as she considered Jet's impassioned remark. "I do not think he was mocking me, precisely."

"Well, I do," Jet muttered. "He is likely a cruel and murderous man. They do not call him Kurogane of Wyckmere for naught."

Levy whirled around, exasperated. "We must not read too much into a silly nickname."

"I don't think it's silly," Happy said with great relish. "Sir Natsu says he got that name because of all the outlaws he's killed."

Levy groaned. "I'm sure his exploits have been greatly exaggerated."

She halted her pacing abruptly as a very large shadow fell across the graveled path directly in front of her.

As if conjured up by a sorcerer, Gajeel appeared. He had come soundlessly around the corner of the high hedge, giving no warning of his presence until he was directly in front of her.

She glowered at him. It did not seem right that such a large man could move so quietly. "By Saint Hermione's little finger, sir, you gave me a start. You might have said something before you popped out from behind the bushes in such a sudden manner."

"My apologies. I give you fair greeting, my lady," Gajeel said calmly. "I was told I would find you here in your garden." He glanced at the small group still gathered beneath the apple tree. "I have already made the acquaintance of young Happy. Will you introduce me to the lady seated beside him and to the other members of your household?"

"Of course," Levy said stiffly. She rattled off the introductions.

Lucy studied Gajeel with assessing interest. "Welcome to Desire, my lord."

"Thank you, madam." Gajeel inclined his head. "It is good to know that I am welcomed here by some. Rest assured that I shall endeavor to meet as many of my lady's requirements as possible."

Levy flushed and motioned quickly to a reluctant-looking Jet and Droy.

"Welcome to our island, Sir Gajeel." Droy said bowing his head

"Welcome to Desire, sir," Jet muttered. He looked mutinous but he wisely kept a civil tongue.

Gajeel raised one brow at the duo. "Thank you. I shall look forward to hearing your songs and seeing your dances. I should tell you now that I have very specific preferences in music."

"Have you, sir?" Jet asked, tight-lipped.

"Aye. I do not care for songs about ladies who are seduced by knights other than their wedded lords."

Jet bristled. "Lady Levy delights in songs that tell of the love affairs of ladies and their devoted knights, sir. She finds them very exciting."

"Does she, indeed?" Gajeel arched a brow.

Levy felt herself grow warm. She knew that she was turning a bright shade of pink. "I am told that such ballads are very popular at the finest courts throughout Christendom."

"Personally, I have seldom found it either necessary or convenient to follow the latest fashion," Gajeel said. He gave the small crowd a cool, deliberate look. "I trust you will all excuse your lady and me. We wish to converse in private."

"Of course." Lucy rose to her feet. Then she smiled at Gajeel. "We shall see you at supper. Come along, Happy."

Happy hopped off the bench. He grinned at Gajeel. "Is the Iron God Sword very heavy, Sir Gajeel?"

"Aye."

"Do you think that I could lift it if I tried?"

Lucy frowned at him. "Certainly not, Happy. Do not even suggest such a thing. Swords are very dangerous and extremely heavy. You are much too delicate for such weapons."

Happy looked crestfallen

Gajeel looked down at him. "I do not doubt that you could lift a sword, Happy."

Happy beamed.

"Why don't you ask Sir Panther Lily if you can examine his sword?" Gajeel suggested. "It is just as heavy as the Iron God Sword."

"Is it?" Happy looked intrigued by that information. "I shall go and ask him at once."

Lucy looked horrified. "I do not think that is at all wise."

"You may be at ease, Lady Lucy," Gajeel said. "Sir Panther Lily has had a great deal of experience with such matters. He will not allow Happy to hurt himself."

"Are you quite certain it is safe?"

"Aye. Now, if you do not mind, madam, I would like to speak with Lady Levy."

Lucy hesitated, obviously torn. Then good manners took over. "Forgive me, sir. I did not wish to be rude." She hurried off after her son.

Levy bit back her annoyance. Now was probably not the best moment to inform Gajeel that Lucy did not want Happy encouraged in his growing enthusiasm for all things pertaining to knighthood. She tapped her toe impatiently as the others took their leave.

"Do not alarm yourself, Levy," Lucy said. "I comprehend how uneasy you are at the prospect of this marriage. But I feel certain that Lord Metalicana would not have sent you a candidate who did not meet the majority of your requirements."

"I'm beginning to wonder about that," Levy said.

Jet and Droy lingered a moment, giving Levy an urgent, searching glance. They both looked frightened but determined.

Levy frowned and quickly shook her head once in a small negative gesture. The last thing she wanted was for either one of them to attempt to be her champion in this awkward situation. The young men stood no chance against Kurogane of Wyckmere.

When they were alone in the garden, Levy turned to face Gajeel. He no longer stank of sweat and steel, but the rose-scented soap he had recently used did not disguise that other essence, the one that smelled so right to her.

She could not help but notice that even though he had discarded hauberk and helm, he did not appear any smaller than he had earlier.

Levy was forced to acknowledge that it was not his physical size, intimidating as that was, which made him seem so large and so very formidable. It was something else, something that had to do with the aura of self-mastery and clear-minded intelligence that radiated from him.

This man would make a very dangerous adversary, Levy thought. Or a very strong, very loyal friend.

But what kind of lover would such a man prove to be?

The question, unbidden and deeply unsettling, had a shattering effect on her.

To cover her strange reaction, Levy sat down quickly on the stone bench. "I trust my servants have made you comfortable, sir."

"Very comfortable." Gajeel sniffed a couple of times, as if testing the air. "I seem to smell of roses at the moment, but I expect the odor will soon fade."

Levy set her teeth. She could not tell if he was complaining, jesting, or merely remarking upon the fragrance. "The rose-perfumed soaps are among our most profitable wares, sir. The recipe is my own invention. We sell great quantities to the London merchants who come to the spring fair in Dreyar."

He inclined his head. "That knowledge will greatly increase my appreciation of my bath."

"No doubt." She mentally braced herself. "There was something you wished to discuss with me, sir?"

"Aye. Our marriage."

Levy flinched, but she did not fall off the bench. Under the circumstances, she considered that a great accomplishment. "You are very direct about matters, sir."

He looked mildly surprised. "I see no point in being otherwise."

"Nor do I. Very well, sir, let me be blunt. In spite of your efforts to establish yourself in everyone's eyes as the sole suitor for my hand, I must tell you again that your expectations are unrealistic."

"Nay, madam," Gajeel said very quietly. "'Tis your expectations that are unrealistic. I read the letter you sent to Lord Metalicana. It is obvious you hope to marry a phantom, a man who does not exist. I fear you must settle for something less than perfection."

She lifted her chin. "You think that no man can be found who suits my requirements?"

"I believe that we are both old enough and wise enough to know that marriage is a practical matter. It has nothing to do with the passions that the troubadours make so much of in their foolish ballads."

Levy clasped her hands together very tightly. "Kindly do not condescend to lecture me on the subject of marriage, sir. I am only too well aware that in my case it is a matter of duty, not desire. But in truth, when I composed my recipe for a husband, I did not believe that I was asking for so very much."

"Mayhap you will discover enough good points in me to satisfy you, madam."

Levy blinked. "Do you actually believe that?"

"I would ask you to examine closely what I have to offer. I think that I can meet a goodly portion of your requirements."

She surveyed him from head to toe. "You most definitely do not meet my requirements in the matter of size."

"Concerning my size, as I said earlier, there is little I can do about it, but I assure you I do not generally rely upon it to obtain my ends."

Levy gave a ladylike snort of disbelief.

"'Tis true. I occasionally prefer to use my wits rather than muscle if possible."

"Sir, I shall be frank. I want a man of peace for this isle. Desire has never known violence. I intend to keep things that way. I do not want a husband who thrives on the sport of war."

He looked down at her with an expression of surprise. "I can't say I have no love of violence or war."

Levy raised her brows. "You, who carry a sword with a terrible name, You, who wears a reputation as a destroyer of murderers and thieves, believe that you life on a small island selling flowers? It makes me want to laugh."

"I did say I had interest in such matters. However I have, after all, used a warrior's skills to make my way in the world. They are the tools of my trade, that's all."

"You may have a point, but I have grown weary of violence, sir. I seek a quiet, peaceful life." Levy said looking away from Gajeel

"As do I" he said

Levy did not bother to hide her skepticism. "An interesting statement, given your choice of career."

"I did not have much choice in the matter of my career," Gajeel said. Levy sat there silent for a moment then regained her train of thought

"Let us go on to your second requirement. You wrote that you desire a man of cheerful countenance and even temperament. Do you consider yourself any of these two things?"

"Nay, I admit that I have been told my countenance is somewhat less than cheerful, and I am most definitely a not man of even temperament."

"I do believe that , sir."

"You see? We are making progress here. Getting to know one another" Gajeel reached up to grasp a limb of the apple tree. "Now, then, to continue. Regarding your last requirement, I remind you yet again that I can read."

Levy cast about frantically for a fresh tactic. "Enough, sir. I grant that you meet a small number of my requirements if one interprets them very broadly. But what about your own? Surely there are some specific things you seek in a wife."

"My requirements?" Gajeel looked taken back by the question. "My requirements in a wife are simple, madam. I believe that you will satisfy them."

"Because I hold lands and the recipes of a plump perfume business? Think twice before you decide that is sufficient to satisfy you, sir. We live a simple life here on Desire. Quite boring in most respects. You are a man who is no doubt accustomed to the grand entertainments provided in the households of great lords."

"I can do without such entertainments, my lady. They hold no appeal for me."

"You have obviously lived an adventurous, exciting life," Levy persisted. "Will you find contentment in the business of growing flowers and making perfumes?"

"Aye, madam, I will," Gajeel said with soft satisfaction.

"'Tis hardly a career suited to a knight of your reputation, sir."

"Rest assured that here on Desire I expect to find the things that are most important to me."

Levy lost patience with his reasonableness. "And just what are those things, sir?"

"Lands, a hail of my own, and a woman who can give me a family." Gajeel reached down and pulled her to her feet as effortlessly as though she were fashioned of thistledown. "You can provide me with all of those things, lady. That makes you very valuable to me. Do not imagine that I will not protect you well. And do not think that I will let you slip out of my grasp."

"But—"

Gajeel brought his mouth down on hers, silencing her protest.


	8. Chapter 7

Gajeel had not intended to kiss her. It was no doubt too soon. But she looked so tantalizing sitting there in the shade of an overhanging branch that for once he did not stop to contemplate all the possible consequences of his actions.

So he did something he rarely allowed himself to do. He surrendered to impulse. And to the new hunger that had arisen deep within himself.

She would soon be his wife. His desire to learn the taste of her had been clawing silently at his insides since the moment he had plucked her off the convent wall. He was suddenly desperate to know if there was any hope of finding some warmth waiting for him in his marriage bed.

Likely he was a fool to seek the answer to such a question. Marriage was a matter of duty for Levy. She had approached the business in the same manner in which she no doubt concocted her perfumes; she had created an ideal recipe and then attempted to find all the various ingredients combined in one man.

She was bound to be disappointed that her alchemic brew had failed, and bold enough to make that disappointment plain.

Logic told Gajeel that in spite of her intriguing title, he could not expect much in the way of passion from the lady of Desire. Nevertheless, some deeply buried part of him yearned to find a welcome here on this flowered isle.

The long years that he and Levy would spend together stretched out ahead for both of them. Gajeel hoped those years would not be spent in a cold bed.

She seemed startled but not frightened by his kiss. Gajeel was relieved. At least her experience with Laxus of Dreyar had not left her fearful or repulsed by passion.

Mayhap she had been seduced rather than raped by Laxus.

Mayhap she even had some affection for her neighbor. It was possible that she had enjoyed her four days with Laxus but had not wanted to marry him for some reason that had nothing to do with passion.

That last thought did not please Gajeel.

Levy stood stiffly in his arms at first, her back rigid, her mouth tightly sealed. A strange sense of despair welled up within him. He wondered if the aura of spring that radiated from the lady was a false one. If she had ice in her veins, he was doomed to a wintry bed.

It should not matter, but it did.

By the devil, it mattered.

And then Levy trembled slightly. She made a tiny little sound and her lips softened beneath his own. Gajeel discovered what his senses had suspected from the first. Kissing Levy was like kissing the petals of a flower. She tasted fresh and sweet.

There was nectar buried deep within the petals. Gajeel found it and drank deeply. His tongue touched her own. She started but did not pull away. Instead she leaned closer, apparently as curious as he to learn what their future held.

Her fingertips glided along the back of his neck beneath his hair. She sighed softly into his mouth. It was a breathless little sigh of budding passion.

Gajeel's entire body reacted as though he had downed a potent elixir.

A surging rush of desire swept through him. His hands shook a bit as he tightened his hold on her. Her mouth was soft, ripe, and very inviting.

Gajeel had promised himself only the briefest of sips, but the potion in the heart of the blossom proved too intoxicating. The urge to down it all overwhelmed his senses and threatened to destroy his self-mastery.

He cupped her face in his hands and drew his thumbs along the line of her jaw. She was as finely made as the exquisite tapestries that hung on the walls of her hall.

He let his hands skim the curves of her body. The promise of vibrant life was waiting for him here in the small curves of Levy's breasts and in the flare of her hips. An aching need twisted his gut. He flexed his fingers around her waist.

Levy's hands shifted to settle like butterflies on his mid section. She touched the tip of her tongue very tentatively to his lower lip. Gajeel could feel her breasts pressing against his chest.

"You will give me, strong sons," he said against her mouth.

She drew back with a small frown. "And mayhap a daughter or two." There was a crisp edge on her words that told him he had somehow managed to offend her.

"Aye." He stroked her spine with the sort of soothing movement he would have used on his proud, temperamental war-horse. "I would suit me well to have a clutch of daughters as well made and as intelligent as their mother."

She looked up at him blushing "I cannot guarantee that you will have children of me, sir, let alone that they will be sons. No woman can make such promises."

"The only guarantee I seek and will most certainly have from you, madam, is a vow that any babes you do give me will be of my blood."

Her brown-green eyes widened, first in shock and then in anger. She took a swift step back, wrenching herself out of his grasp.

He studied her, trying to read the truth in her eyes. But he could see only the blazing feminine outrage. He had blundered badly. That much was clear. On the other hand, he thought, mayhap it was time for plain speaking.

"I demand an oath of fealty from the men who serve me and I will ask no less from my wife. I mean to have such matters understood between us."

"I am not one of your liege men, sir. I consider that I have been gravely insulted."

"Insulted? Because I seek to ensure that my wife will be loyal?"

"Aye. You have no right to question my honor. I demand an apology."

"An apology?" Gajeel eyed her thoughtfully. "Pray, which of your devoted admirers will you ask to avenge this grave insult if I do not apologize? Young Happy? Your new minstrel or jester? Or mayhap your marshal, who looks as though she would rather play in the mirror than with a sword"

"I do not appreciate your poor jest, sir."

"I never speak in jest."

"I beg leave to doubt that. I think you enjoy a very dangerous notion of amusement. I do not care for it."

Gajeel grew bored with the silly game. He had made his point. She had been warned. He made it a practice to give only one warning. "Enough of this nonsense. We have other matters to discuss."

"You are correct in that, sir. I shall not forget your insult, but we most certainly do have other matters to discuss." A speculative gleam appeared in Levy's gaze. "I have been considering this situation and have come to some conclusions."

"Have you?"

"Aye. I believe Metalicana of Landry is a kind, compassionate lord."

He laughed at such statement.

Levy ignored the interruption. "I cannot imagine that he would insist that I marry a knight who is so unchivalrous as to actually question my honor before the wedding."

"Lady Levy—"

"Obviously Lord Metalicana did not fully comprehend your true nature before he selected you as one of my suitors. He will be shocked, shocked, to learn that he made a grave mistake."

Gajeel knew by the expression in her eyes that she was seriously contemplating the possibility of sidestepping the marriage on such flimsy grounds. The lady would have made an excellent lawyer. He felt an odd tugging sensation around the edge of his mouth. One corner even started to curve upward into what might very well prove to be a smile. He restrained himself with an effort.

"If you think to delay this enterprise by writing to Metalicana to complain of my unchivalrous behavior, I'd advise you not to waste your time. Or his. He will not thank you for it." Gajeel paused to add weight to his next words. "Nor will I."

"So." Levy nodded once, very briskly, as if some inner suspicion had just been confirmed. "Now we have threats from our unchivalrous knight. This business grows darker by the moment." She swung about and began to tread deliberately along the garden path. "The better acquainted you and I become, sir, the more I fear that you simply will not do as a husband."

"How strange." Gajeel clasped his hands behind his back and fell into step beside her. He was beginning to enjoy himself. "I have had just the opposite experience. The deeper our acquaintanceship grows, the more certain I am that you will make me a most satisfactory wife."

"Highly doubtful, sir." Levy pursed her lips with an air of regret. "Highly doubtful. In any case, I must write to Lord Metalicana to clarify some aspects of this situation before we proceed further."

"Which aspects do you refer to, lady?"

"To began with, I am concerned that thus far you are the only suitor to arrive on Desire."

"I told you, your choice is limited to Laxus of Dray or myself. There are no other suitors."

She scowled. "There must have been other suitable candidates for the position. Likely you are merely the first to arrive on the isle. The others might be journeying here even as we speak."

"Mayhap I overtook the other candidates en route and persuaded them that their cause was hopeless."

"Aye." Her brows snapped together. "There is that possibility."

"Or, having failed to persuade them to abandon their quest, mayhap I simply dispatched them," Gajeel added helpfully.

"That is not at all amusing, sir."

"This has gone far enough." Gajeel reached inside his outer tunic and withdrew a folded parchment leaf. "You had best read this letter from Metalicana of Landry before you proceed with your schemes, my lady."

Levy regarded the letter warily before she took it from his hand. She studied the seal intently and then slowly broke it. Her mouth tightened as she read.

Gajeel examined the neatly framed flower beds and the carefully trimmed borders of the garden as he waited for Levy to read through the letter. He was familiar with the contents of Metalicana's missive. His father had dictated the letter in Gajeel's presence. It would be interesting to see how Levy reacted when she had finished reading.

He did not have long to wait. Levy was obviously very skilled at reading. Just as he was.

"I find this very difficult to believe" Levy muttered as she hurriedly perused the first paragraph. "Lord Metalicana claims that you are the best candidate he could find. He says that you are the only one who was even remotely comparable to Lord Laxus."

"I told you as much."

"I would not boast of it, if I were you. Laxus is hardly a model of gracious chivalry."

"I have heard that he is skilled with a sword and that he is loyal to his liege lord," Gajeel said softly. "Those are Metalicana's primary concerns."

"It is easy for Lord Metalicana to be satisfied with such simple qualifications. He is not obliged to marry the future lord of Desire."

"I'll concede that much."

Levy frowned as she returned her attention to the letter. "Surely there must have been others who … By Hermione's elbow, sir, this is impossible." Levy looked up, clearly dumbfounded. "Lord Metalicana claims that you are his eldest son."

"Aye."

"That cannot be true. Never expect me to believe that Metalicana of Landry would want his heir to wed someone like me."

Gajeel slanted her a sidelong glance. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, of course. But Metalicana's heir will be expected to make a fine match with a truly great heiress, the daughter of a family which enjoys influence with King Henry. A grand lady whose dowry will include much wealth and vast estates. I have only one small manor and it is already bound to Lord Metalicana."

"You do not understand."

"I most certainly do understand." Levy's voice rang with fresh outrage. "You, sir, are attempting to deceive me."

The accusation annoyed him. "No, I am not trying to cheat you."

"Do not think you can trick me so easily. If you were truly the baron's heir, he would not settle this tiny little manor on you."

"Madam—"

"And why would you wish to live here in this remote place when, as Metalicana's son and heir, you could have your choice of many fine holdings and great castles?"

"'Tis true that I am Metalicana of Landry's eldest son," Gajeel said through set teeth. "But I am not his heir."

"How can that be?"

"I'm his natural son, not his legitimate heir." Gajeel looked at her, curious to see how she would react when she learned the full truth. "To be blunt, madam, I am Metalicana's bastard."

Levy was speechless for a moment. "Oh."

He saw that she was surprised, but he could not tell if she was shocked or angered or horrified to discover that she would soon be wed to a bastard. "Now mayhap you understand."

"Aye, sir, I do. Under the circumstances, Desire is no doubt as much as you can expect to receive by way of an inheritance, is it not?"

He did not like the hint of sympathy in her voice. "'Tis enough. More than I expected."

Levy glowered at him and then bent her head over the letter. "This is too much. Your father states that I am to marry at once and that he hopes I will choose you, but if not, he will accept Laxus of Dreyar as the new lord of Desire."

"I told you that Metalicana is most anxious to see the matter settled," Gajeel said neutrally. "He was much alarmed to discover that this manor had been without a lord for some time."

"Ah—"

"For some reason, he did not learn of your father's death until very recently. Apparently your letter notifying him of the sad event was delayed for a few months."

"Well, as to that, aye, there was some small delay." Levy cleared her throat discreetly. "I was numbed with grief for a time, of course."

"Of course."

"And then, when I eventually recovered, I discovered that there were a great many business matters that needed to be settled."

"Naturally."

"And then, the first thing I knew, it was winter," Levy continued blithely. "I reasoned that the roads would be impassable, what with the snow and ice. I decided it would be best to wait until early spring to send a message to Metalicana."

Gajeel almost smiled. "And while you waited for the roads to clear, you sought to discover a way to avoid marriage."

Levy gave him a disgruntled look. "It was worth a try."

He shrugged. "But the effort failed. So now we must go forward along a new path."

"We?"

"Aye. There is no reason the marriage cannot be celebrated on the morrow, is there?"

"Impossible." Desperation flashed in Levy's eyes. "Absolutely impossible. It simply cannot be done."

"It most certainly can be done, and well you know it. All that is required is that a priest be summoned—"

"We do not have a priest here on Desire," Levy said swiftly.

"I'm sure that one can be found in Dreyar. We shall make our vows in front of witnesses, and that is that."

"But there is so much more to the matter," Levy protested. "A suitable celebration must be arranged. My marshal already has her hands full organizing the household to accommodate all of your men. He will need weeks to arrange a wedding banquet and a proper feast for the villagers."

"I am certain all can be arranged very quickly once you have made your selection. A day or two at most," Gajeel conceded.

"You speak as one who has never had to organize such an event," she informed him with lofty disdain. "Great quantities of bread must be baked. Fish must be caught. Chickens plucked. Sauces prepared. Casks of wine and ale will have to be purchased. It will be necessary to send someone to Dreyar to obtain some of the supplies."

Gajeel came to a halt and confronted her. "Lady, I have organized entire battles with less notice. But I am willing to be patient."

"How patient?"

"Now we are to bargain on that point? I begin to comprehend that I am to marry a woman with a head for business. Very well, my terms are simple. I shall allow you a day to make your decision and to prepare."


	9. Chapter 8

Levy sought the refuge of her study chamber. It was a place where she could usually find as much satisfaction as she could in her garden or in the workrooms where she concocted her perfumes and potions.

The walls of the sunny chamber were covered with beautifully worked tapestries featuring garden scenes. The air was scented by urns full of flowers that had been crushed and dried and then painstakingly mixed to yield complex fragrances.

The braziers in the corners, which provided heat on cold days, burned scented coals that delighted Levy's sensitive nose.

In the days following the death of her brother, Edmund, and again, after receiving the news of her father's death in Spain, Levy had found solace and comfort in this chamber.

A few months ago, seeking a way to take her mind off her myriad problems, she had begun a book-writing project. She determined to write down many of her intricate perfume recipes.

The task gave her a great deal of satisfaction.

Today, however, there was no escape to be found from the troubles which beset her.

She sat for a while with pen and parchment in front of her and tried to concentrate on the book of recipes, but it was no use.

After three botched attempts, she gave up the effort and tossed aside the quill. She gazed moodily out the window and thought about the feel of Gajeel's mouth on hers.

His kiss had shaken her more than she wished to admit. It had been nothing like the wet, obnoxious kisses Laxus had forced on her last month when he had carried her off to Dreyar Keep.

She had disliked everything about Laxus's embrace. When he had crushed her against his great, oversized body, she had been repelled, not only by the bulge of his aroused manhood, but by the very smell of him.

Part of the problem, of course, was the undeniable fact that Laxus was not overly fond of bathing. But it was not just the odor of sweat and dirt that had repulsed her; it was the personal, utterly unique scent of the man, himself. Levy knew she would never learn to ignore it, let alone accept it in the same bed with her.

She touched her lips with her fingertips and inhaled deeply, seeking a trace of Gajeel's scent.

"Levy?" Lucy frowned from the doorway. "Are you all right?"

"What? Oh, aye, I'm fine, Lucy." Levy smiled reassuringly. "I was just contemplating something."

"Sir Gajeel, by any chance?"

"What else?" Levy waved Lucy to a stool near the window. "Did you know that he is Lord Metalicana's son?"

"Aye. I heard the news just now downstairs in the hall." Lucy studied her with a perceptive look. "He is Metalicana's bastard, to be precise."

"But still a son." Levy fiddled with the quill. "Some would say I have been honored."

"Some would say that Lord Metalicana places great value on this manor," Lucy said dryly. "'Tis obvious he wishes to be certain that he can depend upon the loyalty of its new lord. What better way to make sure of that than by seeing you wed to a man who is tied to him by blood?"

"True enough." Levy glanced at the letter that lay on her desk. "He claims he could not find any suitors who came close to meeting my requirements except Sir Laxus and Sir Gajeel."

"Indeed?"

"Personally, I am beginning to doubt that he tried very hard."

"Men tend to be very practical about such matters," Lucy murmured. "At least he has given you a choice."

Lucy looked up into Levy's eyes. "'Tis more of a choice than I had."

Levy winced. She knew very well that at fifteen, Lucy had had no say whatsoever in the selection of a husband. "Were you very unhappy in your marriage, Lucy?"

"Lord Jose was worse than most men," Lucy said . "He was deliberately cruel to me and to Happy."

"That is horrible." Levy said looking at Lucy as tears filled her eyes

"'Aye it was, however other have had it worse" Lucy retorted.

"Did you ever grow to love him?"

Lucy sighed. "Nay. I could not love him."

Levy tapped the quill gently on the desk. "Abbess Hisui wrote in her last letter that a good man will cause his wife to fall in love with him after the marriage."

"I mean no offense, but what would Abbess Hisui know of marriage?"

"Aye, you have a point." Levy glanced at the bookshelves which contained her precious books and treatises.

Two of the volumes had belonged to her mother. Some of the others Levy had obtained in her endless quest for information concerning the making of perfumes. The remainder had belonged to her father. He had returned from each journey with new ones, some of which he donated to the convent library in the village. The last, a book that he had scripted himself and was almost indecipherable, had been shipped to her shortly before his death.

One of the large, heavy volumes, a work devoted to herb lore, had been written by Abbess Hisui of Ainsley. Levy had purchased a fair copy from a monastery in the south.

Levy had studied every word of Abbess Hisui's treatise. She had been so impressed by Hisui's book that she had boldly undertaken to write a letter to the abbess. To her astonishment the abbess had penned a response.

The correspondence between the two women, nourished by their mutual interest in flowers and herbs, had flourished during the past year. Last fall Levy had been delighted and deeply honored when Abbess Hisui had journeyed to Desire for a short visit.

The Abbess had stayed at the hall, rather than at Saint Hermione's, and she and Levy had stayed up very late every night. They had talked for hours, discussing every conceivable subject.

But Lucy was right. As intelligent and learned as Abbess Hisui undeniably was, she had never been a wife. She could not know much about the intimate side of marriage.

Levy studied the tip of her quill while she tried to find a tactful way to ask her next question. "Did you ever develop any feelings of, uh, warmth for Sir Jose, Lucy?"

Lucy snorted. "Few women find passion in the marriage bed, Levy. Nor should they seek it. 'Tis a frivolous thing, passion. A woman marries for other, far more important reasons."

"Aye, I'm only too well aware of that." But still, she had hoped to find some warm feelings in her marriage bed, she thought wistfully. And with Gajeel's kiss still burning her lips, she sensed she might find such feelings with him.

How could that be? she wondered. Other than the ability to read, which Gajeel claimed to possess, he did not appear to be made up of any of the ingredients she had specified in her recipe for a husband.

She could not begin to comprehend why she had responded so unquestioningly to his embrace.

"I shall be honest with you,"Lucy said. "Thomas was twenty years older than me and he had little patience with a new bride. Our wedding night was unpleasant but bearable, as it is for most women. One gets past it and it is done. After that, I grew accustomed to the business and so will you."

Levy groaned. "I know you are trying to encourage me, Lucy, but you are not succeeding."

"It is not like you to complain about your responsibilities, Levy."

"I do not complain without reason. Sir Gajeel has virtually ordered the wedding to take place the day after tomorrow. Metalicnana's letter gives him the authority to insist."

"What did you expect?" Lucy sighed, "'Tis no surprise, I suppose."

"Nay." Levy got to her feet and went to stand at the window. "I wish I had more time. It is the one thing I crave most at the moment. I would pay dearly for it."

"Do you think that time would make much difference? Sir Laxus grows more encroaching by the day. You have lost the last two shipments of perfumes to thieves. You have said yourself that Desire needs a lord who can protect it."

"Aye. But I need a husband whom I can tolerate in my bed and at my table for the rest of my life." A strange panic welled up inside Levy. The rest of her life.

"What makes you think it will be impossible for you to tolerate Sir Gajeel?"

"That's the problem," Levy whispered. "I simply do not know yet whether he and I can come to some sort of accommodation. I have only just met the man. All I have learned about him thus far is that he meets only one of my requirements. Apparently he can read."

"That is something."

"I need more time, Lucy."

"What will that buy? You have known from the first that you were unlikely to contract a marriage that was also a love match. Few women in your position enjoy that opportunity."

"Aye, but I had hoped for a marriage that would be based on friendship and the pleasures of shared interests." Levy chewed reflectively on her lower lip, "Perhaps that was too much to ask. Nevertheless, if I just had a bit more time, I believe I could …"

"Could what?" Lucy eyed her uneasily. "I do not like that expression on your face, Levy. You are scheming again, are you not? You are concocting plans in the same manner with which you create new perfumes. Do not trouble yourself with the effort. In this instance I fear there is no time for such alchemic cleverness."

"Mayhap, but it occurs to me that I might be able to delay events if I could convince Sir Gajeel that he must allow himself some time."

Lucy looked astonished. "Time for what?"

"Time to discover whether or not he will be truly content to settle down here as lord of Desire." Levy recalled Gajeel's cautiously neutral attitude toward the rose-scented soap he had used in his bath. "I do not believe he has given much thought to what it will mean to become the lord of an isle of flowers."

"You are hoping that a man who has made his living fighting murderers and outlaws may conclude that becoming a gardener is a somewhat dull prospect?"

"It is a possibility."

Lucy shook her head. "I doubt it. At the moment, I suspect that all Sir Gajeel can think about is the prospect of becoming lord of his own rich lands."

"But what if I could convince him that he himself needs time for some calm reflection?" Levy swung around, suddenly enthusiastic about her new notion. "He is an intelligent man, the sort who thinks carefully and plans well before he acts."

"You are certain of this?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely." Levy did not pause to consider how she could be so sure of her analysis. "If I can convince him that he should consider long and well on the matter of this marriage, I shall be able to secure the time I want."

"How will you use that time?"

"First, to become better acquainted with him," Levy said. "'Twill be useful if we do go forward with the marriage. I would at least know more about my husband before I am obliged to share a bedchamber with him. Second, if I discover that I simply cannot bear the thought of tying myself to Sir Gajeel for life, my scheme will provide me with an opportunity to discover a way out of the dilemma."

"It will not work, Levy. From what I can learn, Kurogane is eager to be wed. He wants to claim his bride and his new lands immediately."

"But mayhap I can persuade him to hold off for a while."

"How will you do that?"

"By telling him that I will not search for any other candidates for the position of lord of Desire while he himself is considering the post."

"You do not know much about men, Levy. Trust me, your scheme is hopeless."

"You cannot know that," Levy insisted. "At the moment, a goodly portion of Kurogane's eagerness for this match is based on his belief that I am uneasy about the poor selections that have been offered to me. But if he can be convinced that I will not attempt to find another to replace him until he has contemplated the matter further, he might be willing to postpone the wedding."

"Highly unlikely."

"Why must you take such a gloomy view, Lucy?" Levy broke off at the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. She went back to the window.

"What is it?" Lucy asked.

"A small party of men is approaching from the village." Levy peered at the cloud of dust in the distance. She spotted a familiar yellow banner. "Oh, no."

"Levy?" All the color left her face

"By the hem of Saint Hermione's gown, I have never known a man to show poorer timing. What an idiot he is."

"Who?"

"Sir Laxus."


	10. Chapter 9

"Oh, no, surely not." Lucy rose from the stool and hurried to the window. Her mouth tightened at the sight of the party of mounted men. "I vow, this could prove to be somewhat awkward."

"That is putting it mildly."

"Do you think that Sir Gajeel knows anything about the kidnapping?"

"How could he?" Levy frowned. "We hushed the matter up quite thoroughly. I made it clear to everyone that I had been a willing visitor to Dreyar Keep. And I did not mention the incident in my letter to Lord Metalicana. Sir Gajeel cannot be aware of it."

"I hope you're right," Lucy said grimly. "Because if Kurogane of Wyckmere is given cause to believe that his bride has been ravished by another man, I fear there will be the devil himself to pay."

A sudden thought struck Levy. "Do you think that he would withdraw his suit if he were to learn that I had been kidnapped?"

Lucy looked alarmed. "Now, Lev—"

"Mayhap a previously ravished bride would not be to Sir Gajeel's taste. He is a very proud man for one who was born a bastard." Levy paused. "Or mayhap because of that fact."

Lucy scowled. "Do not even contemplate such a notion. There is no telling what would happen were Sir Gajeel to suspect the worst, and I, for one, do not want to find out."

"Hmmm," Levy said. She turned toward the door.

"What are you going to do?" Lucy called after her.

"I am going to welcome our visitors, of course. What else?"

"Levy, I beg of you, promise me that you will not do anything rash."

Levy gave her a quick, reassuring smile. "Do not fret. I shall consider carefully before I move the next piece in this game of chess."

She hurried out the door and along the corridor to the stone steps in the corner tower. She flew down them to the great room of the hall, where confusion and alarm seemed to reign.

Mirajane came up to her, her face creased in lines of grave anxiety. "'Tis Sir Laxus and several of his household knights, my lady. They are already in the courtyard. What am I to do with them?"

"We shall first determine why they have come from Dreyar without any notice. Then we shall invite them to sup with us and stay the night."

"The night? But we have a house full of guests. There is no room for any more."

"I am certain we can find space for a few more pallets here in the hall."

Levy crossed the hall and went outside to stand on the steps. The courtyard was even busier than the hall. Grooms ran from the stables to take the horses as the newcomers dismounted. Several of Gajeel's men appeared. Their eyes were watchful and they held their hands close to the hilts of their swords.

A large, familiar figure flung his helm to his squire and climbed down from his horse.

"Greetings, my lady." Laxus's voice boomed across the courtyard.

Levy groaned.

Blonde -haired and blue/gray-eyed, Laxus of Dreyar was not an unhandsome man. Levy thought his features rather coarse, but she knew that some woman found his thick neck, bulging chest, and sturdy thighs appealing. She had once overheard a giggling maid confide to a friend that Laxus's male member was as well muscled as the rest of him.

Levy had no desire to discover the truth of that statement.

"Welcome, Sir Laxus," she said coolly. "We were not expecting you."

"Word has reached me that the chase is on." Laxus smacked his hand into his palm with great relish. "I've always enjoyed the sport to be had from a rousing hunt."

"What hunt?" Levy glared at him. "What are you talking about, sir?"

"I hear that you have finally been cornered and forced to choose a husband. Past time, if you ask me."

"No one did."

"What's more, I have it on good authority that a suitor for your hand has arrived on Desire." Laxus chuckled. "I could scarcely let a stranger have the field to himself."

"This is not a hunt, sir, and I am not a helpless hart to be run to earth and captured. I have a choice in the matter."

Laxus chuckled. "And have you made your choice, madam?"

"Nay, I have not."

"Excellent. Then it is not too late. I shall join the chase."

"I fear the lady jests." Gajeel materialized behind Levy. He stood with arrogant ease on the top step, one big hand resting lightly on the hilt of the Iron god sword. "The hunt is over."

"Who are you?" Laxus demanded.

"Gajeel of Wyckmere."

"The one they call Kurogane." Laxus grinned. "I have heard of you, sir."

"Have you?"

"Aye, you've got a reputation that would do credit to the devil. So you're here to woo the lady, eh?"

"She finds it amusing to pretend that she has not yet selected a husband. Who can blame her for attempting to prolong the entertaining game of courtship? But in truth the matter has been decided. I am the only suitor who meets any of her requirements."

"Not necessarily," Levy muttered. She was annoyed by the way the two men towered over her. Between the two of them they managed to block out the spring sunshine. She found herself standing in the shade.

Laxus's eyes narrowed as he took Gajeel's measure. "I know well that Lady Levy has certain very specific requirements in a husband. I would not want to see her settle for less than she deserves."

"You need not concern yourself with the matter," Gajeel said.

"But I must." Laxus switched his attention back to Levy. "We have been friends and neighbors for years, is that not right, madam?"

"We have certainly been neighbors for years," Levy said.

"Aye, and because of that close relationship, I feel it is my duty to be certain that any husband of your choosing knows exactly what he is getting in the bargain." Laxus smirked. "A man should not be surprised on his wedding night."

A deep sense of alarm unfurled within Levy. She sniffed delicately and smelled the heavy, dangerous tension in the air between the two men.

There had never been violence of any kind on her fair isle. She would not allow it to flare up now.

In that moment Levy knew that she would have to abandon her half-formed plan to turn the situation to her own advantage. She was suddenly faced with another, more pressing problem.

She had to find a way to keep Gajeel and Laxus from each other's throats.

Which was proving to be tedious, not only was the two men arguing, Laxus's men was arguing. He had brought along his top knights, which included a woman that donned a green tunic.


	11. Chapter 10

Supper proved to be the perilous performance Levy had feared. Seated at the head table between Gajeel and Laxus, she felt as though she were the acrobat she had seen at last year's harvest fair. Surely the effort of balancing oneself on a taut rope strung between two poles could be no more difficult than attempting to maintain peace in a chamber full of quarrelsome knights.

Not that there had been any open conflict as yet. But Levy could feel the anticipation growing in the hall. It was a direct reflection of the hostility that emanated from the two men seated at the head table.

In an effort to lessen the opportunity for small provocations between Gajeel's and Laxus's men, Levy had seen to it that they were seated on the opposite sides of the long trestle tables. She hoped that the short distance that separated the warriors would prove a useful barrier in the event hostilities broke out.

Violence, if it erupted, would start at the head table, she reminded herself. As long as she controlled Gajeel and Laxus, she would control the entire hall.

It was a daunting task.

"Nay, not more vegetables?" Laxus looked askance at the array of new dishes that had been set down amid the primroses scattered atop the table. "I vow, you eat more greenery here on Desire than do the hares and deer in my forest."

"We are very fond of fresh vegetables, my lord," Levy said with a smile. "Mayhap you would prefer the oysters? The cook does them with almonds and ginger. I'm sure you will enjoy them."

Laxus lowered his lashes and looked at her with a slumberous gaze. The expression was no doubt intended to stir fires in her loins, but in reality it made him appear as though he were about to fall asleep at the table. "I will enjoy them all the more if you offer them to me with your own tender fingers, my lady."

Levy gritted her teeth around a frozen smile. It was common enough to offer a special guest a particularly tasty morsel, but she had no intention of honoring Laxus in that fashion. In the first place, she did not think of him as a special guest. He was, in actual fact, a great nuisance. Levy's second consideration was not knowing how Gajeel would react if he believed she was favoring Laxus.

This was what came of trying to select a husband. Life had once been so peaceful and uncomplicated here on Desire, Levy thought.

"You always set an excellent table, my lady," he said . "And your presence is the tastiest dish of all."

"Thank you." Levy gave him a repressive look, silently beseeching him to behave. If Laxus read the plea in her eyes, he gave no indication.

Laxus was rapidly becoming oblivious to a great many things, she reflected. He got that way after a few tankards of ale.

"But as lovely as you are tonight seated here in your own hall," Laxus continued in a drawling, provocative tone, "I believe I prefer the memory of how you looked when you were seated beside me in Dreyar Keep less than a month ago." He paused to swallow more ale in a single gulp. "I thought at the time that you looked as though you belonged there."

Levy felt Gajeel stir silently in the chair to her left. She panicked for a second. Her spoon clattered loudly against the edge of a bowl. "'Twas a pleasant visit, sir and you were a gracious host. But here is where I belong."

"And here is where you will stay," Gajeel said abruptly.

Levy glanced at him uneasily from the corner of her eye. She did not like his tone. It seemed to her that the more Laxus taunted and provoked, the more angry and more agitated Gajeel's became.

Levy was growing increasingly alarmed by Gajeel's temper. She wondered if she was the only one in the hall who realized just how dangerous it was. It seemed to her that everyone present ought to be able to see the obvious threat.

Laxus thickheaded fool that he was, apparently did not. In fact, Levy thought, Gajeel's agitation seemed to be emboldening him.

It dawned on Levy that Gajeel was deliberately baiting Laxus.

Gajeel caught Levy's eye as he used his knife to slice a wedge of mixed-meat tart. He did not quite smile—the man never smiled—but there was that in his expression which suggested this was as close to being amused as he could get.

Kurogane of Wyckmere was enjoying himself.

Levy wanted to dump the contents of the pottage bowl over his head.

"Mayhap we would all enjoy some music, and dance" Levy said firmly. She looked at Jet and Droy, who were sulking at the end of one of the long tables. "Will you give us a cheerful Performance?"

They both leaped to their feet and swept her a deep bow. "As my lady commands."

Jet picked up his harp and began to play a familiar melody while Droy began to dance. Levy relaxed as she recognized one of her favorite songs. Jet had composed it for her shortly after his arrival on Desire. It was called "The Key."

My lady's smile doth shine as brightas moon and stars on a summer's night .

Her eyes are shining, soft and warm,

Her face is as pure as a clear, fresh stream .

Tonight I shall take the key ,

The key that she has given to me .

"Aye, aye, the key." Laxus banged his tankard on the table. "Take the key."

Levy shuddered.

"Aye, the key." A green haired knight called, already drunker than his master, while another with a Helmet yelled . "And what will ye do with the key, lad?"

More tankards clashed as the rest of the men from Dreyar called encouragement to Jet. Levy saw Laxus start to grin. He downed another swallow of ale and then reached for his goblet of wine.

'Tis the key to her chamber that she has given me .

She will welcome me there most graciously .

"Graciously, graciously," one of the men chorused with a hoot of laughter.

'Tis unfair that her lord keeps such a treasure hidden .

I shall risk my life to climb through her window this night .

I shall part her bed curtains and behold the fair sight .

Laxus slammed the table with his fist, rattling cups and dishes. "Aye, lad, on to the lady's bed. 'Tis worth the risk." He leered at Levy.

Levy looked helplessly at Lucy, who in turn glanced uneasily at Pantherlily and Natsu. The two men gazed impassively at Gajeel, as if waiting for a signal.

Her thighs are alabaster columns, round and smooth .

When I lay between them I shall see

The golden door that awaits my key .

"Aye, aye, the key." Laxus roared.

Out of the corner of her eye Levy saw Gajeel pick up one of the delicate white primroses that decorated her table. The blossom looked small and extremely fragile in his large hand. Slowly he began to stroke the petals.

Levy held her breath.

Another shout went up from the men seated below the head table. Levy pulled her fascinated gaze away from the sight of the primrose cradled in Gajeel's hand.

She tried to signal Jet and Droy to stop performing, but they pretended not to notice her attempt to gain their attention.

Laxus sprawled in his chair. "You appear bored, Hellhound. What's the matter? Don't you care for the minstrel's song?"

"Nay." Gajeel continued to stroke the petals of the primrose, apparently intrigued by their delicacy.

Levy shot to her feet. She fixed her sights on Jet with a pointed look. "Master minstrel, I would prefer another song, if you do not mind. Mayhap the lovely one you wrote about the flowers of spring."

"But The Key' is one of your favorites, my lady," Jet protested.

"Aye, but tonight I would like to hear another of my favorites."

For an instant she thought Jet was going to refuse. But he finally nodded brusquely and began to pluck a different tune, one that featured flowers.

Levy sighed with relief, sat down, and quickly signaled Mirajane to send out more food and ale.

The marshal moved with astonishing speed, However always avoiding Laxus's lecherous stares. It was clear that she, didn't want to have anything to do with Laxus.

Lucy visibly relaxed. Levy saw her smile weakly at Natsu, who gallantly offered her a morsel from his plate. To Levy's amazement, Lucy blushed prettily and took the proferred bite.

Laxus's mouth turned down in a sullen fashion, rather like that of a boy bent on mischief who has seen his teasing game halted before the jest has been played.

Gajeel set the primrose aside and calmly picked up his wine goblet as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "I am well pleased with your minstrel's new song, madam."

"I am very glad to learn that, sir." Levy gave him an irritated smile. Her manners were wearing thin. She was thoroughly annoyed with Gajeel, just as she was with Laxus, and she did not particularly care if he knew it. "I certainly would not want any of the guests in my household to have cause to be displeased with the entertainment."

Laxus slammed his goblet down on the table. "Well, I do not much care for the new song. All that nonsense about spring flowers is dull and boring."

"Do you find it so?" Gajeel glanced at him very casually. "Mayhap you lack the wit to enjoy the more refined aspects of the verses."

Laxus glowered at him. "Are you saying I lack wit?"

"Aye. 'Twas no doubt one of the reasons Lady Levy sought other suitors. She has stated quite clearly that she desires a husband who is both clever and well educated."

Laxus flushed with fury. A reckless glitter lit his eyes. "I'll wager Lady Levy prefers the other song. Is that not right, madam?"

Levy tried to think of an excuse to end the evening and send everyone off to bed. She wished someone would do her a favor and raise the alarm for fire or siege.

"I take pleasure in all types of music." Desperately she sought a distraction. "Would you please pass me the bowl of figs, Sir Laxus?"

"Certainly." Laxus smiled slowly. "Allow me to choose a fig for you." Instead of handing her the bowl, he reached into it with his long, broad fingers and plucked out one of the figs. He dipped the dried fruit into a dish of cinnamon and honey and held the morsel to Levy's lips.

She stared at the dirt under Laxus's nails and tried to think. She was intensely aware of Gajeel watching the small scene, a angry expression in his eyes.

The whole situation was getting ridiculous, she thought angrily. This was her hall and she was in command here. She refused to surrender it to either of these large, overbearing males.

She smiled coolly at Laxus and removed the fig from his hand. She set the dried fruit down on her plate without taking a single bite.

"I have changed my mind. I believe I have eaten enough this evening," she said.

"You disappoint me, lady," Laxus said. "Why, when you stayed with me at Dreyar last month, your appetite was much keener." He paused to leer. "And not just for figs."

Levy experienced a distinct chill. "I do not recall."

"Ah, but I do," Laxus said. "How could I forget those enticing meals we shared? I confess that my fondest memories are of how very pleased you were when I satisfied your extremely delightful appetites. I trust you have not forgotten your sweet satisfaction?"

"You tease me, Sir Laxus," Levy said. Foreboding, dark and disquieting, stole over her. She was rapidly losing all hope of staving off disaster. "I would have you cease at once. I do not find it amusing."

"Nay?" Laxus watched her, but it was obvious his real attention was on Gajeel. He was weighing each goading word he spoke, pushing a little harder, searching for the point where blood could be drawn. "I am devastated to learn that, madam. I certainly found you to be most entertaining. Indeed, I eagerly await your return to Dreyar so that we may again satisfy our appetites together."

The implication of Laxus's words were clear to all who heard them. Lucy toyed nervously with her spoon. Pantherlily gazed at Gajeel in stone-cold silence.

Gajeel helped himself to a fig. He said nothing.

"I wish to discuss something else," Levy realized her voice was starting to rise.

"But I prefer to reminisce about the meals we have shared." Laxus took back the honeyed fig Levy had placed on her plate. He sucked on it and then made loud smacking noises. "They were so very pleasurable."

Gajeel growing more annoyed. "Lady Levy has requested that the topic of conversation be changed. She does not find it amusing. Nor do I."

Laxus chuckled. "Do you think I care whether or not you find it amusing?"

"'Tis the lady's wishes that concern me. They should be a matter of some concern to you, too."

Levy's heart sank. The situation was worsening rapidly. Mayhap if she could get both men sufficiently drunk, they would both fall into stupors. "Would either of you care for more wine?"

Laxus ignored her. He kept his narrowed gaze on Gajeel. "Do you believe that you can please the lady better than I, Kurogane?"

"Aye."

"'Tis highly doubtful, if you ask me. Why would she give the key to her chamber to a bastard after she has known the touch of a well-born knight?"

A shocked silence fell like molten lead on the hall. Levy saw Lucy's eyes widen in horror at the insult. Natsu sat grim-faced beside her.

Jet fumbled with the strings of his harp. He ceased playing and jumped to his feet and tapped Droy's shoulder signaling him to stop. The two glanced wildly around the hall, as though seeking a place to hide.

Mirajane paused in the doorway, a fresh flask of wine in her hand, and gazed helplessly at Levy.

Levy found her voice. "That is quite enough, Sir Laxus. I believe you are drunk."

"Not too drunk to not know what he's doing," Gajeel said softly.

"Agreed." Laxus's eyes glittered. "But what of you, Kurogane? Do you still have your wits about you?"

"Aye. I keep them about me at all times. You would do well to remember that."

"Lady Levy appears to have a problem deciding which of us will make her the better husband." Laxus's booming voice rang through the silent hall. "I propose that we resolve the matter for her. Here and now."

"How?" Gajeel asked eagerly .

Levy was so outraged she couldn't speak.

"What game do you suggest that we play?" Gajeel asked.

"Trial by combat. Here and now."

"Agreed." Gajeel appeared no more concerned about that suggestion than he had about the first one, "You may choose the weapons."

Levy leaped to her feet again. "I have had enough of this idiocy"

Everyone stared at her.

She planted both hands flat on the table to keep them from shaking and swept the hall with furious eyes. "Hear me, all you who eat and drink at my board tonight. Know that I have had my fill of this foolish business of selecting a husband. Lord Metalicana has promised me that I can make my own choice. I will do so now and put an end to the matter."

A rustle and murmur of interest went through the hall. Men whispered to their neighbors, eager to place hasty wagers on the outcome of this new turn of events.

"My bold and noble suitors wish to play games," Levy said with scathing emphasis. "Very well, a game it shall be. But I shall choose the sport and I shall be the only player."

Gajeel's crimson eyes never left Laxus's face.

Laxus smirked.

"It seems that I must choose between Sir Gajeel of Wyckmere and Sir Laxus of Dreyar." Levy gestured toward each man in turn. "Was ever a woman so fortunate in her suitors?"

There were roars of approval from the crowd in the hall. No one seemed to notice the sarcasm in Levy's voice.

She snatched up one of the white primroses and held the bloom aloft in front of her so that all could see it. "I shall pluck the petals from this flower. As I do so, I will call out, by turns, the names of each of these fine, chivalrous knights who would be lord of Desire. By my oath, I will wed the man whose name I call out last."

Laxus's smile vanished. "God's eyes, Levy, you cannot mean to make such an important choice in such a haphazard manner."

She glared at him. "'Tis no more haphazard and a good deal less bloody than the trial by combat which you proposed, Sir Laxus."

"Hellfire," Gajeel muttered. "Do you know what you're doing, lady?"

"Aye." Levy did not give anyone else time to interfere. She plucked the first petal from the primrose. "Sir Gajeel."

A stir of excitement went through the crowd. More wagers were placed.

"Sir Laxus." Levy tore off another petal and let it flutter to the table.

Laxus scowled at the flower. "This is an idiotic way to select a husband."

"When one has been given a choice between idiots, one uses an idiotic method of selection." Levy smiled sweetly and ripped off another petal.


	12. Chapter 11

"Sir Gajeel."

There were only two petals left on the primrose. Levy plucked the next to the last one. "Sir Laxus."

Hisses of dismay mingled with shouts of triumph as the crowd realized who the winner would be.

Levy held up the primrose to display the single remaining petal. She tore it ruthlessly from the stalk. "Sir Gajeel of Wyckmere."

A thundering din arose from the hall as the diners pounded their tankards on the tables.

Laxus's face contorted with fury. "Damn it to the pit, woman, what do you think you're doing?"

"Choosing the new lord of this manor." Levy swung around with a flourish and handed Gajeel the denuded primrose. "Welcome, my lord. I trust you will be content with what you have gained."

Gajeel took the naked stalk and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Aye, my lady." His eyes gleamed. "I am well content."

"God's blood," Laxus surged to his feet. "I am far from satisfied. You cannot choose a husband in this fashion."

"'Tis done. I have made my selection, as I was commanded to do by Metalicana of Landry." Levy stepped back from the table. "And now you must excuse me. I am going to my bedchamber. I find myself much wearied by the excitement."

"God's blood," shouted Laxus. "I'll not stand for this."

"You, sir, have nothing more to say about the matter." Levy raised her chin. "As it is too late for you to return to Dreyar, you are welcome to stay the night. Arrangements have been made."

She picked up her skirts and started around the table. Lucy rose quickly to join her.

Levy was aware of everyone watching her as she crossed the room to the tower stairs. She paused on the first step and looked back toward the head table, where Laxus and Gajeel sat.

"Before I take my leave, sirs, I have one more thing to say." She met Gajeel's eyes. "Know this, my future lord. There has never been violence here on this isle. I will not tolerate any tonight. Is that understood?"

"Aye, my lady," Gajeel said softly.

"If blood is shed in this hall before morning," Levy continued through set teeth, "I vow, I will take the veil rather than wed you or any other man."

More whispers of wonder and speculation washed over the crowd. Laxus looked suddenly sly.

Levy glanced disdainfully at Laxus and then she returned her attention to Gajeel. "And lest both of you decide that you would be better off without me to contend with, remember that if I enter a nunnery, I will not go empty-handed. I shall take all the secrets of my perfume recipes with me. They will be my dowry to the convent."

Another hushed silence fell on the hall as the impact of that statement made itself felt. There was not a soul on the isle who was not aware that the revenues from Desire were based on Levy's perfume recipes. Without them the fields of flowers and herbs were useless.

Satisfied that she had made her point, Levy smiled grimly at Gajeel. "Your first task, Sir Gajeel, is to keep the peace in this hall. If you would enjoy future profits from my perfumes, you must accomplish the business without drawing blood. I bid you good night."

She picked up an oil lamp that was burning on a nearby table, whirled about, and rushed up the narrow, twisting stairs. Lucy followed at her heels.

"Dear heaven, how could you make your choice in such a whimsical manner?" Lucy gasped as she flew up the steps in Levy's wake. "What if the winner had been Sir Laxus? You despise him after what happened last month. You said yourself that you would rather marry almost any man than him."

"There was no way that Sir Laxus could have been the winner. I knew who would be the new lord of Desire before I pulled the first petal off the flower." Levy reached the upper floor and stalked down the corridor to her bedchamber. "There are only five petals on a primrose, after all."

"But how did you know which name would be called out last?" Lucy's brow cleared. "Oh, I see. You had counted the petals and reasoned it out before you started."

"Aye." Levy opened the heavy wooden door of her chamber. She went inside, set the lamp down on a table, and walked to the window. She took a deep, calming breath of the perfumed darkness. "I knew the answer. Indeed, I knew it hours ago."

* * *

Two hours later Pantherlily heaved a sigh of relief and grinned at Gajeel. "My congratulations on your successful completion of your first task as lord of this manor."

"Thank you."

"I confess I was not certain we would get through the evening without a bit of bloodshed. But as always, you proved as swift with your wits as you are with the Iron god Sword."

"'Twas not difficult to persuade Laxus and his men to drink themselves into oblivion. They were already halfway there when my lady quit the hall." Gajeel prowled his chamber with a restlessness that was unusual for him. "You have assigned the guards?"

"Aye. If any of Laxus's men awake before dawn, he will be given another cup of wine."

"And Laxus?"

"Fast asleep as a newborn babe, thanks to his efforts to defeat you in the contest to see who could down the most wine." Pantherlily chuckled. "Speaking of that bloodless tournament you staged with your rival, I have a question."

"Aye?"

"What did you do with all the wine that you were supposedly downing?"

"I poured it into the rushes beneath the table whenever Laxus turned his head."

"I thought as much." Pantherlily's mouth turned down wryly. "The hall will not be a pretty sight tomorrow morning when Lady Levy's guests awake with splitting headaches and heaving stomachs, but there will be no bloodshed tonight."

"And that is the important thing." Gajeel felt the odd tugging sensation around the corners of his mouth. He almost smiled. "My lady's wishes will be carried out insofar as possible until she is safely wed to me. I would not want her to think that she made the wrong choice."

"You are surprisingly pleased with yourself for a man whose destiny was recently linked to the fragile petals of a flower and a woman's whim."

"It is not the first time that my future has been decided by fortune and fate. I doubt it will be the last."

"I thought you would be as enraged as Laxus was when you saw the method Lady Levy intended to use to make her choice." Natsu Said walking into the room.

Gajeel halted in front of the window. He braced a hand against the stone sill. "I knew I would win the contest as soon as she plucked the first petal and called my name. More to the point, so did she. Given her knowledge of flowers, 'tis certain that she knew the answer before she began."

Natsu frowned. "How do you know that?"

Gajeel remembered the primrose he had examined while Jet defiantly played the bawdy ballad. "There are only five petals on the primroses. Or at least there were only five on the flowers that were scattered about on the table tonight."

"Ah." Pantherlily smiled. "I take your meaning. Given the uneven number of petals, it was inevitable that whichever name Lady Levy started with, that name would be the one she called out last."

"Aye."

"Why do you think she went to the trouble of acting out the small play? Why not merely announce that you were her choice and be done with it?"

Gajeel gave in to the smile that hovered at the edge of his mouth. "She finds me arrogant. I believe that she was attempting to teach me a lesson."

"A lesson?"

"She wanted me to think that as far as she was concerned, there was little difference between Sir Laxus and myself. It was her way of letting me know that I have yet to prove to her that I am the better choice."

Pantherlily eyed Gajeel's curved mouth with great caution. "You are amused by this?"

Gajeel considered the matter more closely. "I believe I am."

Natsu swore. "I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have seen you amused."

"You exaggerate."

"Nay, my memory is clear because on each occasion you came within a hair's breadth of getting us both killed."

Suddenly the door busted open and in walked a certain black haired mage. He walked over to where Gajeel was standing and bowed on one knee. "I'm sorry I'm late Sir Gajeel." Gajeel motioned for him to stand. "Where have you been Gray?"

Gray stood up and straightened his white coat and black trousers. "I was invited to a ball hosted by my step-brother Lyon."

Gajeel nodded, and decided it was time to rest, so he sent the men out of his room. Tomorrow is going to be difficult he thought to himself before drifting away into deep slumber.


	13. Chapter 12

I will say this again ... Please note that this story is basically the same as Desire by Amanda Quick (that is why it is listed under Parody) However I have changed the story in more way than one. This story will have side stories once I get all the main characters introduced. I also plan to change the ending of the story so that it will not be the same. I decided to make this story because I wanted to share this great story with the characters of fairy tail.

* * *

Levy held her tiny scented pomander to her nose as she gingerly made her way through the ruin of her main hall the next morning.

Even the fragrant herbs that had been scattered amid the rushes could not disguise the odor of brimming chamber pots, spilled wine, and stale bodies.

It would take hours to get the hall cleaned. Fresh rushes would have to be put down before the chamber was habitable. Levy wrinkled her nose in dismay. The servants could not even begin the task of sweeping out the hall until the sleeping men, who were sprawled everywhere, were removed.

She picked her way among the pallets, ignoring the snores of her guests, and managed to reach the front steps without getting ill. The black haired guard who Levy had never seen before stood there watching her.

"Good morning, my lady"

"Good morning. I've never seen you here before. " Levy dropped the pomander to let it dangle from her girdle. "You're one of Sir Gajeel's men, aren't you?"

"Aye, my lady. My name is Gray. I arrived a little later than expected"

"It is a pleasure to meet you, but have I meet you before Gray?."

Gray smiled. "Aye, I am son to the Fullbuster Family. You went to one of my Brother's ball last year"

"Oh yes I remember now!"

Gray chuckled. "I remembered you because of your unique hair color."

Levy felt her cheeks redden , but Gray's words aroused a sudden new thought. "Is it really so strange?"

Gray chuckled. "Aye, madam. I have never seen such unusual hair"

Levy laughed slightly. "You should meet my cousins," she said under her breath.

She smiled at Gray. "I trust there were no serious problems last night?"

Gray blinked. He seemed momentarily dazzled by her smile. He blushed furiously. "Nay, my lady."

"No one was hurt?"

"I believe Sir Pantherlily may have used a tankard on one or two thick skulls when the wine failed to take effect, but no one was seriously injured." Gajeel shrugged.

Levy was pleased that there was no blood shed. "Am I right to conclude that Sir Gajeel deliberately got Laxus and his men drunk?"

"Aye, my lady. He said it was the easiest way to deal with the matter."

"Very clever." Levy smiled more broadly. Her smile turned into a chuckle as she recalled the very similar tactics she had used to deal with Laxus during the precarious nights at Dreyar. "Sir Gajeel appears to be every bit as shrewd as I believed him to be."

Gray grinned. "'Twas merely a hall full of feasting men, my lady. Hardly a difficult battle for Kurogane of Wyckmere. You should have seen him deal with the pack of murderous robbers who were laying waste to Galtonsea last fall. Now, there was a sight to behold. Sir Gajeel had us set a trap and when the cutthroats fell into it we—"

"I'm sure it was all very exciting," Levy interrupted quickly. The last thing she wanted to hear about this morning was Gajeel's more bloodthirsty skills. She wanted to suppress the realization that she was to marry a man who had, until recently, made his living in a violent manner.

Jet emerged from the kitchens on the other side of the courtyard. He was munching on a large wedge of freshly baked bread.

"My lady," he called when he caught sight of Levy . He shoved the last of his bread into his mouth and hurried toward her. "I bid you good day."

"Good day to you, Jet. I pray you will not choke on your morning meal."

"Nay, my lady." Jet swallowed hastily and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic. "I trust that you slept well last night?"

"Aye, thank you."

"'Tis a wonder." Jet frowned darkly. "I thank the saints that you were not kept from your rest by the dreadful events which took place in your hall after you left."

Levy raised her brows. "I did not think that anything dreadful occurred. The hall is in an unpleasant condition this morning, but that is only to be expected with so many guests scattered about."

Levy's thin face assumed a grave expression. "'Twas a scene that would have shocked and horrified a lady as refined and gracious as yourself. Aye, it was a sight that could have come straight from the depths of hell."

Levy frowned. "Come, now, it cannot have been that bad."

"You were not there, madam, saints be praised." Jet straightened his thin shoulders. His eyes flashed with indignation. "Need I remind you that the awful events of last night were presided over by Kurogane himself?"

"What's this, minstrel?" Gajeel asked casually as he walked out onto the steps to stand behind Levy. "Carrying tales so early in the day? One would think that you could find more useful employment to occupy your time."

Jet started and took a step back. His fingers twitched in agitation. Then he recovered himself, scowled resentfully, and turned to Levy. "I pray you will excuse me, my lady."

"Yes, of course," Levy murmured.

She watched Jet hasten away and mentally composed herself to face the man who would soon be her husband.

Her husband. The thought made her feel light-headed.

"Good day to you, madam," Gajeel said.

"Good day, sir." Levy fixed a smile in place and turned to greet him. Although she thought that she had prepared herself, she realized she was nonetheless a little breathless.

She suspected most of Kurogane's wine had, in fact, gone under the table along with Laxus and his men. That was certainly where hers had gone during that first, dangerous evening when she had found herself a virtual prisoner in Dreyar Keep.

She had escaped Laxus that night after encouraging him to drink his fill. Then she had rushed upstairs to a tower chamber and locked herself inside.

Levy had spent the next three days there, ignoring Laxus's rage, his threats, and the pounding on the door. She had managed to free herself one afternoon when, frustrated by his failure to convince Levy that she must wed him, Laxus had gone hunting.

It occurred to Levy now that if her captor had been Kurogane, she likely would not have escaped.

Gajeel looked even larger this morning than she had remembered. The strong, sleek power that he exuded was as much a part of him as his intelligence and his determination. Levy had a fleeting wish that her father and brother had lived to meet him.

But, she reminded herself, if her father and brother had still been alive, she would likely never have met Gajeel of Wyckmere herself, let alone contracted a marriage to him. She would never have sought him out as a husband and Gajeel would not have been interested in her because she would not have been an heiress.

Life played odd tricks on a woman.

Gajeel had on a gray tunic over his undertunic, which was the color of charcoal. Although he wore no armor this morning, the Iron god Sword was at his side, secure in its scabbard. The crystal pommel mirrored its master's eyes. Levy got the impression that the sword was as much a part of Gajeel's daily attire as his boots and tunic.

His gaze was thoughtful as he watched Jet scurry away. "Your minstrel and I are going to have to have a long talk."

"Jet means no harm, sir. He is merely concerned on my behalf." Levy frowned. "I trust you will not make a practice of frightening the members of my household?"

"It won't hurt your pet poet to learn a few manners. He is not merely protective of you, madam. I believe he is jealous."

"Jealous?" Levy's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Aye. 'Tis not difficult to comprehend."

Levy blushed. "Thank you, sir, but in truth I have had little experience with jealous men."

"'Tis not an uncommon malady. Many men fall victim to the fever when they are Jet's age."

"The fever?"

"Love sickness. The symptoms are easily recognized. When the disease strikes, young males become overly earnest and passionate, determined to worship the very hem of their beloved's gown."

"I see."

"Jet has obviously devoted himself to your service with the whole of his pure young heart and he does not wish to share your attentions."

"Are you certain? I hadn't realized his feelings were of such an intense nature."

Gajeel shrugged. "As I said, 'tis a common enough problem in boys. 'Tis nothing he will not outgrow."

Levy crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Tell me, sir, were you ever prey to the sort of fever you describe?"

"There was a brief time in my life during which I succumbed to the hellfires of unrequited passion. But that was long ago." Gajeel's eyes gleamed. "I decided there was no profit in it and soon wearied of the pangs. I have no talent for worshiping a lady from afar."

"A pity." Levy did not want to admit it to herself, but the truth was that Gajeel's easy dismissal of gallant love and pure passion was disheartening. She must remember that this marriage was as much a matter of business for him as it was for her.

"I trust you do not expect me to fall ill with love sickness at my age," Gajeel said softly.


	14. Chapter 13

Levy looked into his red eyes and realized with a sense of startled wonder that he was once again amused. The knowledge did much to lift her flagging spirits. Gajeel was a man of well-concealed emotions, but at least he possessed some. Yesterday she had not been entirely certain of that.

She reminded herself that she had never expected to gain a passionate lover in this marriage.

She needed time.

She cleared her throat and decided to seize the opportunity. "Although you speak in jest, Sir Gajeel, I would—"

"Never, madam."

She blinked in confusion. "I pray your pardon?"

"I merely said that I never speak in jest."

She brushed that aside. "Nonsense, of course you do. However, your last comment raises a rather delicate issue, one that I wish to address before our marriage takes place."

"Later, if you do not object. There are one or two matters I must deal with before Laxus and his men awake." Gajeel glanced across the courtyard and raised a hand to catch Natsu's and Pantherlily's attention.

"But Sir Gajeel, the matter I wish to speak to you about is quite important."

"So is sweeping out the refuse from your hall."

Levy was distracted by that remark. "Well, that is certainly true. Do you propose to take charge of the task?"

"How could I do anything less? I am the one who caused the mess."

She swallowed a smile. "Aye, so you are. But under the circumstances, I am prepared to overlook the matter."

"You are indeed a most gracious and generous lady."

"I am pleased that you think as much." She frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose our discussion can wait. Mayhap you will be free sometime this afternoon?"

"I am always available to you, madam."

"Except when you are in the process of cleaning out a hall?"

"Aye."

A groom chose that moment to lead one of the massive war-horses across the courtyard. The animal's steel-shod feet rang on the stones. The horse and groom were followed by a clattering cart full of hay.

A pained groan sounded from just inside the hall.

"In the name of the devil and all his minions, what is all that damnable noise?" Laxus lurched into view from the shadowed doorway behind Gajeel. He absently scratched the stubble on his cheeks as he peered, bleary-eyed, into the courtyard. "Oh, it's you, Levy."

Levy tried to ignore the stench that emanated from him. "Good day to you, sir."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed."

She scowled. "You appear ill."

"I am." Laxus winced. "My head feels as if some fool used it for quintain practice."

"Do not expect sympathy from me," Levy said. "After your extremely annoying behavior last night, you do not deserve any pity."

Laxus gave Gajeel a beseeching look. "You have won the lady's hand. She's all yours with my blessing. The least you can do is protect me from the sharp edge of her tongue."

Gajeel glanced at Levy. "Lady Levy was just about to take a brisk walk along the cliffs."

"I was?" Levy gazed at him in astonishment.

I think it would be for the best," Gajeel said. "By the time you return, your hall will be swept clean."

Levy hesitated. "Mayhap a walk is not such a bad notion. I often take one in the mornings. As it happens, I have an errand in the village." She brightened. " I pray you will both excuse me, sirs."

"Aye," Laxus muttered. "You're excused. Good riddance."

Levy glowered at him as she went past. "Really, Sir Laxus, you should be ashamed of yourself for the way you acted last night."

"I pray you will read me no lectures," Laxus said. "This sore skull of mine is punishment enough for any offense I may have committed last night. You are welcome to Kurogane if he is, indeed, your choice."

"He is no longer Kurogane of Wyckmere," Levy said forcefully. "On the morrow he will become Gajeel, lord of Desire, and I would have you show him proper respect."

Gajeel raised one brow and watched Levy with mild curiosity, as if she were an odd and unfamiliar creature.

Laxus cradled his head between his hands. "I will call him by any name you wish, if you will cease screeching, lady."

"I am not screeching." Levy stepped around him and went toward the tower stairs.

"'Tis a matter of opinion."

"Levy ignored him. But halfway up the curving staircase, she realized that she had forgotten to inquire as to whether or not Laxus intended to stay for the wedding. If he and his men were going to spend another night under her roof, she would have to alert poor Mirajane.

Lifting the skirts of her gown, she hurried back down the stone steps. She evaded a snoring man who had slid halfway off his pallet into the stinking rushes, and crossed the shadowed hall to the main entrance.

Gajeel and Laxus still stood talking quietly in the doorway. Neither man noticed her as she came to a halt at the sound of her own name.

"Nay, by all that's holy, I have no desire to stay another day to see lady Levy wed," Laxus said. "She's yours and I wish you joy of her."

"That is generous of you under the circumstances," Gajeel said.

"'Tis true that she brings a fine, fat manor as her dowry. I felt obliged to try to get my hands on it, but to be honest, I'm not sorry I lost to you. The man who takes Levy as wife will pay a high price. You'll discover that soon enough."

"'Tis no concern of yours," Gajeel said.

"Aye, and I confess that this morning I am eternally grateful for that." Laxus rubbed his temples. "God save me from clever women."

"Rest assured that you have been saved from this particular woman."

"The difficulty is that she's had the running of this manor ever since she was a young girl," Laxus complained. "She's grown far too accustomed to command. I warn you, Kurogane, she'll not tolerate any man's hand on the reins."

"Mayhap that will depend upon the man who lays hold of those reins."

"Nay, you do not know what you're getting into." Laxus heaved a heartfelt sigh. "I concocted a shrewd plan for managing her, you know."

"Did you?"

"Aye, and being the generous man that I am, I'll give you the advice I had intended to take myself."

"What's that?"

"Once you've got her well and truly wed, bed her day and night until you've planted your seed. When you're certain that she is with child, you can leave the isle."

"Leave?" Gajeel sounded curious.

"Why not? Let her stay here to see to the running of Desire. 'Tis what she's good at. You can spend most of the year somewhere out of range of her tongue."

There was a short pause.

"That was your brilliant scheme for dealing with Lady Levy?" Gajeel finally inquired. "Get her with child and then leave the isle?"

"Aye, and it would have worked, too. If you've got half the wit they say you have, Kurogane, you'll heed my advice."

Laxus's words hurt. Levy tired to ignore the pain and embarrassment they caused, but it was impossible. She took a step closer to the entrance.

"You are even more of a fool than I believed you to be, Laxus," Gajeel said quietly.

Levy brightened a little. It was nice to be defended by her future lord.

"Bah. We'll see how much of a fool I am after you've had a chance to get better acquainted with Levy," Laxus grumbled. "Do not expect me to offer you shelter at Dreyar whenever you've had enough of the little harpy's tongue."

"Dreyar Keep is the last place I will go to seek refuge from my wife."

"You may suit yourself." Laxus started to turn back into the hall. "If you have no objection, I'll rouse my men and well be on our way. I wish to God I did not have to face that boat trip back to Dreyar."

"There is just one more thing before you leave."

"Aye?" Laxus paused. "And what would that be?"

"It has to do with that visit that Levy made to Dreyar Keep a month ago."

"What about it?"

"I am well aware of the true circumstances of her stay there. I know that you held her against her will."

"'Twas merely a friendly visit. Ask the lady yourself."

"It was kidnapping, so far as I'm concerned. And make no mistake, Laxus, there will be a reckoning."

Levy froze.

"God's eyes, man." Laxus sounded genuinely taken aback. "You don't mean to say that you intend to challenge me because of that visit?"

"Not today. Levy does not want any violence on Desire and I am of a mind to indulge her for the present. But there will come a time and a place when you and I will settle the matter."

"But nothing happened," Laxus exploded. "I never touched the lady."

"That was not the impression you gave last night."

"I gave out that impression because I hoped you might decide to quit the field if you believed it to be the truth. I knew it was my only chance. I was drunk at the time, if you will recall. 'Twas the wisdom of the wine."

"You cannot expect me to believe that you kidnapped Levy, kept her for four days at Dreyar, and did not touch her."

"You don't know much about Levy yet, do you?" Laxus retorted. "Devil take it, why am I standing here arguing with you? You'll learn the truth tomorrow night when you claim your bride."

"Aye," Gajeel said. "I will." The tone of his voice made it clear that he did not expect to find that his bride was a virgin.

Levy was speechless. Laxus's earlier words had hurt, but Gajeel's calm assumption that she had been dishonored enraged her. He had not even had the grace to ask her for the truth. He had simply accepted the gossip of others as the final verdict.

Her cheeks burned and her stomach clenched. She had never expected much from Laxus, but she had begun to believe that Gajeel was a man of reason and some courtesy. Obviously she had been mistaken.

Levy stalked out of the shadowed hall and onto the sunlit steps.

Gajeel glanced at her. "I thought you were fetching something from your chamber."

"I overheard every word." Levy ignored Laxus and fixed Gajeel with a steely gaze. "Sir Laxus speaks the truth when he says that he did not dishonor me while I was at Dreyar."

"Does he?"

"Aye, he does," Levy said very loudly.

Laxus winced. "Pray, madam, have some consideration for my poor head."

Levy spun around to confront him. "By Saint Hermione's little finger, will you cease prattling on about your aching skull, sir? I do not care if your head falls off your shoulders and rolls down the road."

Laxus cringed and made for the door. "I shall leave you two to continue this delightful conversation without me. I am going home to Dreyar. When I arrive there, I shall go straight to the chapel and thank the saints for sparing me from this match."

"Aye, you do that, Sir Laxus." Levy was more incensed than ever by his cowardly departure. "Would that I could also be spared. I am very well aware that it was only my lands and perfume recipes that attracted the attention of two such noble and chivalrous knights as yourself and Sir Gajeel"

Laxus groaned and clapped his hands over his ears.

"Lady Levy," Gajeel said gently, "mayhap it would be best if we conducted this discussion in a more private place."

She turned on him. "I care not who hears me. Everyone on this isle knows I spent four days at Dreyar Keep. 'Tis no great secret."

Gajeel's gaze was contemplative. "Aye, madam."

"I do not expect passion and devotion from you sir, but I do expect that you will believe me when I give you my oath. And I swear to you now that Sir Laxus did not share my bed while I was at Seabern."

"Your virginity or lack of it has no bearing on our marriage," Gajeel said soothingly. "I knew about your stay at Dreyar before I came to this manor."

"And you suspected the worst, did you not?"

"'Tis only logical to assume that Laxus took you while you were at his keep in an effort to force you to marry him."

"Why? Because you would have done so, had you been in his position?"

"Calm yourself," Gajeel said. "I am are growing agitated."

"You are? How unfortunate." Levy wanted to scream with frustration. "You have my most solemn vow of honor, sir, that I have never lain with Laxus of Dreyar."

"There is no need to proclaim your virtue to the world." Gajeel cast a meaningful glance around the bustling courtyard. "I shall have proof of your words tomorrow night, will I not?"

"Nay, you will not," Levy said through her teeth.

A shocked silence settled on everyone in the immediate vicinity. The groom who had been leading the war-horse across the courtyard jerked the lead and caused the big stallion to rear.

Gajeel studied Levy with unreadable eyes. "What does that mean, madam?"

"It means, sir, that I have absolutely no intention of giving you proof of anything, least of all of my virtue." Levy's hands clenched at her sides. "And that, sir, brings me to the subject I told you I wished to discuss with you this afternoon. We may as well have the conversation here and now."

"Nay, madam, we will not have it here and now." Gajeel eyed her with cool challenge. "Unless you mean to put on a performance for everyone present?"

"Why not? I confess that I did not originally intend to discuss this in front of the entire household." She gave him a frozen smile. "I thought to show some respect for your pride, you see."

"My pride?"

"Aye." Levy's smile vanished. "But as you do not appear to have any qualms about discussing my virtue with another man right here on the front steps of my own hall, why should I concern myself with your honor?"

"Lady, I think this has gone far enough."

"I have not yet begun, sir. Hear me well, Sir Gajeel, you who would become the lord of Desire. Hear me and know that I mean every word of what I say. We shall wed tomorrow, as you demand and as my guardian insists."

"Aye, madam, we will.'

"But we will not consummate this marriage of ours until I am satisfied that you will make me a suitable husband," Levy finished triumphantly. "You, sir, will have to prove yourself worthy of my regard and wifely respect before I will share the marriage bed with you."

The crowd of onlookers who had gathered to enjoy the quarrel stared in openmouthed astonishment. Pantherlily's face twisted. He shook his head.

Out of the corner of her eye Levy saw Jet's sulky, resentful expression turn to something approaching sullen satisfaction.

A murmur of eager whispers swept through Gajeel's men. Levy knew they were once again placing wagers.

Laxus started to laugh. "By the devil, 'tis worth everything, even this aching skull of mine, to see this fine play today. I believe I shall stay for the wedding, after all."

"I think not," Gajeel said. "Gather your men and prepare to depart. You have caused sufficient trouble. Give me any more grief this morning and I will likely give you a close look into hell."

Laxus held up his hands, palms out, in a placating gesture. "Fear not, Kurogane. My men and I are already on our way back to Dreyar. I am in no condition to fight you today. Mayhap some other time." He grinned slyly. "I believe you have another battle to wage first, oh great lord of Desire."

"Begone, before I change my mind about seeking vengeance today."

"One more thing before I take my leave," Laxus said. "If you would know how difficult the coming battle is going to be, ask your lady where she got her recipe for a husband."

"I have given you fair warning, Laxus." Gajeel rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I only provide one warning."

"Ask her about Raymond de Coleville. He is the bold knight who gave her the inspiration for her recipe. None of us mere mortals can hope to match him, not even you, Kurogane. The man could not only read, he could write poetry."

Laxus was laughing so hard now that he could hardly catch his breath. Several of his men staggered to their feet behind him. They started to grin.

"If you discover that your lady is no virgin," Laxus managed, "do not look to me for an explanation. Seek out Raymond de Coleville."

A disquieting shiver went through Laxus. She met Gajeel's eyes and wondered belatedly if she should have held her tongue until she had regained control of her temper.

But it was too late to retract her rash proclamation. And she was not one to back down.

"It would seem that the battle I am to wage will be even more of a challenge than I had first anticipated," Gajeel said.

It was not his words which worried Levy.

It was his smile.

"Sir Natsu says that Sir Gajeel is at his most dangerous when he smiles." The brisk morning breeze off the sea ruffled Lucy's mantle. She anchored the hood in place over her neatly braided hair and looked at Levy with troubled eyes. "He says that the Hellhound is seldom amused and on those odd occasions when he does appear to find mirth in a situation, no one else ever comprehends the jest."

"There's no denying that Sir Gajeel enjoys a some-what misguided notion of amusement," Levy muttered. She had pushed back the hood of her orange mantle, allowing her loosely bound hair to play with the crisp, snapping wind.

"Sir Natsu claims that something dreadful frequently occurs after Kurogane smiles."

"Now, that is utter nonsense. Levy adjusted the weight of the small pouch that was suspended from her orange and yellow girdle. She had a pot of a specially scented herbal skin cream stashed inside.

"Sir Natsu is one Sir Gajeel's closest companions. He tells me he has served him for many years. But Natsu says that even Sir Pantherlily treads cautiously whenever Gajeel shows signs of being amused."

Levy glanced impatiently at Lucy. Her friend looked subdued and distinctly uneasy, not at all her normal, serene self. It was unsettling and at this particular moment in her life Levy did not want to become any more unsettled than she already was. She had to keep a clear head and a logical outlook on matters.

And she must remember her duties and responsibilities to the manor.

The walk along the cliffs into the village should have been a splendid way to steady her churning thoughts. Although it had been Gajeel's suggestion this morning, in reality it was Levy's custom to take an early walk each day. She just did not care to be commanded to take a stroll, she thought, irritated by the memory of how Gajeel had virtually ordered her out of her own hall.

It was obvious that Gajeel was accustomed to command.

So was she.

That could be a problem.

"It seems to me," Levy said, "that you and Sir Natsu have had some rather intimate conversations regarding Gajeel."

Lucy turned an astonishing shade of pink. "Sir Natsu is a most courteous knight. Happy is quite fond of him."

"I noticed."

Lucy frowned. "This morning Happy was still talking about his ride on Natsu's war-horse yesterday. I do hope my son does not become too interested in war-horses and armor and such."

Levy gazed out over the sunlit sea. Happy's increasing fascination with knighthood was worrisome for Joanna. "I understand your fears. But it will be difficult to keep a boy of Happy's nature away from Gajeel's men-at-arms."

"Mayhap it would help if I saw to it that Happy spent more time on his studies."

"Aye. Mayhap." But Levy privately doubted if any distraction, least of all an educational one, could deflect the boy's interest in the rough-and-tumble world of men-at-arms.

She understood Lucy's concerns better than most because she had lost her only brother to the lure of the tournament circuit. But Levy also knew that Lucy's overprotective attitude toward Happy was probably not the best method for dealing with a young boy.

Levy took a deep breath, reveling as always in the fresh, scented air. She loved the purple-pink sea lavender that carpeted the clifftops.

She looked out across the narrow channel that separated Desire from the mainland. The dark tower of Dreyar Keep rose behind the small village on the shore. The sight sent a shudder of disgust through her.

"I confess that I have some serious doubts about Sir Gajeel's suitability as a husband," she said. "But I suppose things could have been worse. I might have been forced to put up with Sir Laxus."

Lucy slanted her a strange look. "At least we know you could have managed him, Levy."

"Sir Gajeel will prove manageable," Levy said optimistically.

"Do not be too certain of that." Lucy eyed her closely. "Do you really mean to keep him out of your bed until he has proven himself to be a suitable husband?"

"I told you, I want some time to get to know him. I would have some degree of mutual understanding between myself and my husband before I join him in the marriage bed. 'Tis little enough to ask."

"Sir Natsu says it will never work. He says you should never have challenged Kurogane the way you did. I am inclined to agree with him."

Levy's mouth firmed. "Sir Gajeel should never have challenged my honor."

"Come, now, it was logical for him to assume that you are no longer a virgin. Metalicana of Landry obviously told him of the rumors about the kidnapping and of how you had stayed four days at Dreyar."

"I do not care what gossip Metalicana gave Gajeel. Kurogane should have asked me for the truth of the matter. He should not have made assumptions. And he had no business vowing revenge on poor Laxus."

Lucy's smile was wry. "So it's poor Laxus now, is it? That is not how you referred to him last month after you escaped from Dreyar Keep."

"He is a nuisance and I am grateful that I will not have to wed him. Nevertheless, I confess I felt a little sorry for him this morning."

"I would not waste any sympathy on Laxus, if I were you," Lucy said. "Save such feelings for yourself. You are the one who has challenged Kurogane"

"Do you really believe that I made a mistake this morning when I told Gajeel that he would not be welcome in my bed?"

"Aye. A very serious mistake. One for which I can only pray that you will not have to pay too dearly."

The two women noticed that Sir Gajeel was making his way toward them.

When Gajeel arrived he looked at Levy with deep interest.

Levy glared at him. "I thought you were overseeing the departure of Laxus and his men,"

"Pantherlily will attend to that. I came to find you."

"Why?"

"I wish to ask you to give me a tour of the manor."

"Oh." Levy could think of no immediate excuse to refuse. It was an eminently reasonable request. "But I should return to the hall as soon as possible. There is much to be done before tomorrow."

"Pantherlily and your marshal have everything well in hand at the hall, and your friend Lucy is busy, I see," Gajeel said. "Come." He took Levy by the arm and guided her toward the white palfrey. "I am eager to acquaint myself with Desire."

The ride to the top of the hill overlooking the village took fifteen minutes. It was accomplished in silence. Levy stole several sidelong glances at Gajeel's calm, expressionless face in an effort to determine his mood and finally concluded that he was not angry.

She did not know whether to be irritated or impressed. She had never met a man possessed of such seemingly inexhaustible self-mastery.

"Tell me how you go about concocting your perfumes and potions." Gajeel drew his gelding to a halt and looked out over the fields of spring flowers.

"Are you certain you wish to hear all the details, sir? Mayhap you will find them boring."

Gajeel surveyed the brilliant patchwork of flowers and herbs that flowed across the gentle hills and valleys of Desire. There was cool possessiveness and keen interest in his gaze. "How could I be bored with even the smallest of details? I am responsible for the safety and protection of this isle. I must learn all that I can about it."

Levy stroked the palfrey's neck. "Very well. But please let me know if you grow weary. I have been told that I tend to wax overly enthusiastic about my subject."

She began to talk, slowly at first, unsure of just how much he really wanted to learn. Heretofore the only man who had ever taken a genuine interest in her work had been Raymond de Coleville.

She soon realized that Gajeel was anything but bored by the topic.

"The flowers and herbs are then collected and either dried or infused in oil, according to the recipe," she concluded a long while later. "It takes great quantities of petals to create the basic scented oils."

"The oils are the basis of the various perfumes and soaps you create?"

Levy nodded. "They are combined with a variety of ingredients such as beeswax and honey to create different potions and creams. But I also employ dried flowers and herbs in several preparations."

"A fascinating business."

Levy smiled shyly. "I am writing a book of recipes which will include instructions for the making of many of the perfumes which have proven most profitable for Desire."

"You are a woman of many talents." Gajeel's gaze grew serious. "I am a most fortunate man."

Some of Levy's enthusiasm faded. It was replaced by caution. "I am pleased that you think so."

"Tell me, Levy, do you do everything according to a recipe?"

Levy drummed her fingers on the pommel of her saddle. "You refer to Sir Laxus's idiotic remark about my recipe for a husband, do you not?"

"I was well aware that you had created a recipe for a husband. I did not know that you had based your list of ingredients on a living, breathing man. I believe Laxus said that his name was Raymond de Coleville."

Levy hesitated. "Do you know him, sir?"

"Nay. But naturally, I am interested to learn more of this pattern of perfect chivalry and knighthood."

"He's not exactly perfect."

"How does he fall short?"

"He's married."

"Ah." Gajeel fell silent for a moment. "When did you last see him?"

"It has been nearly a year since he was last here." Levy gazed out across the water toward the mainland. "He came to see me one last time to tell me that his father had contracted a marriage for him."

"I see."

"He told me that he was to wed a great heiress, one who could bring him many manors and lands in Normandy. I could offer nothing to a husband but a remote isle filled with flowers."

"And that was not enough for Raymond de Coleville?"

Levy glanced at Gajeel in astonishment. "How could it possibly compare to what a great heiress could bring him? You yourself would not be here on Desire now if you had been in a position to contract a better match."

"And you would not have contracted any match at all if you had had a choice. Is that correct?"

"Aye."

"Unless, of course, you could have married Raymond de Coleville."

Levy did not like the edge she heard in Gajeel's voice. She decided it was time to change the subject. "'Twill soon be time for the spring fair in Dreyar. That is where we sell many of our potions and perfumes. Rich merchants journey all the way from London and York to buy them. Would you care to learn about that aspect of the business?"

"Later. At the moment, I wish to learn how you met de Coleville."

Levy sighed. "He was a friend of my father's, a fellow scholar. They met two years ago when my father traveled to Paris to attend the lectures on Arab treatises that are given there."

"Raymond de Coleville was also studying in Paris?"

"Aye. Although trained as a knight, Raymond is, in truth, a very learned man."

"Astounding."

"He is far more interested in books and treatises than in tournaments and warfare."

"Is he?"

"Like you, he was gracious enough to show a great curiosity about my potions and perfumes. Indeed, he and I often conversed on the subject for hours."

"Did you?" Gajeel asked softly.

"Of course his interest in the subject was purely intellectual, while yours is based on more practical reasons."

"You think my interest is merely mercenary in nature?"

Levy flushed. "I meant no insult, sir. 'Tis only natural that your curiosity stems from the fact that my perfumes will be the source of your future income."

"I do not come to you a poor man, Levy. Landless, aye. But not poor. Hunting outlaws for rich lords pays well."

Things were getting more uncomfortable by the minute. Levy sought for a way out of the quagmire. "If I offended you, I beg pardon."

Gajeel's expression grew thoughtful. "A neighboring lord, an obnoxious young troubadour, and now a man from your past who serves as the measure by which you judge all other men. Is there no end to the list of rivals I must defeat, madam?"

Levy had the uneasy impression that Gajeel was once again amusing himself at her expense. "I do not know what you mean, sir. 'Tis obvious that you need defeat no other man for my hand. The matter of our marriage is settled, is it not?"

"Nay, not entirely. There is something else that must be discussed."

"What is that?"

"Our wedding night."

"Oh, that." Levy straightened in the saddle. "Aye, now that you mention it, mayhap we should clarify the details."

"Mayhap."

He took a deep breath. "I regret that the matter came out in such an awkward fashion this morning."

"Awkward? I would term it something more than awkward."

"Very well, embarrassing." Levy scowled. "I assure you that I had intended to deal with it far more privately."

"You issued a challenge this morning, madam. And you did so in front of your entire household and the lord of a neighboring manor. By now everyone on Desire is aware that you intend to deny me my rights as a husband."

Levy cleared her throat and prepared to stand her ground. "As I said, I did not intend to make such a public spectacle of the thing. It was your fault, sir."

"My fault?"

"Aye. The threats you made to Laxus were insulting to my honor."

"So you lost your temper and said things in front of the world that you had originally intended to say when the two of us were alone."

Levy exhaled deeply. "I regret to say that I do not have as much control over my temper Sir Gajeel."

"Aye." Gajeel smiled one of his exceedingly rare smiles. "Yours no doubt causes you a great deal more trouble than mine causes me."

Levy abandoned that argument. She had a more important one to pursue. "Sir, I shall be blunt. 'Tis not merely the offense you gave my honor this morning that I wish to discuss."

"I was preparing to defend your honor this morning, not offend it."

"Well, I was offended," she snapped. "But putting that aside, I must tell you that I wish to become better acquainted with you before we consummate our marriage."

"We are as well acquainted as most husbands and wives are before marriage."

"That may well be, but it is not saying much. I want us to learn more about each other. I want time for us to become friends, sir."

"You were friends with Raymond de Coleville, were you not?"

"Aye, but that has nothing to do with this." Levy grew more annoyed. The man was as slippery as a trout. "Let us return to the matter at hand. I am sorry if I embarrassed you, but I meant what I said this morning. I wish to wait before we consummate our marriage. Do you comprehend me?"

Gajeel studied her in silence for a long moment. Then he turned his head and gazed out over the fields of spring flowers. "I comprehend your wishes, my lady. And I respect those wishes."

"Excellent." Levy felt relief well up inside her. She gave him a warm smile. "Then there is no need to continue with this discussion."

"But I wonder if you have considered the problems you created this morning with your failure to control your temper and your tongue."

Levy's relief vanished. "What problems?"

"Your people will not accept me as their new lord until you do. The challenge you issued this morning will likely make things very difficult for me to assume my duties as the lord of Desire."

"Nay, that is not true, sir."

"I can enforce my authority through the usual methods," Gajeel agreed. "After all, the men that I brought with me are loyal only to me and they are well trained. Furthermore, they are the only armed men on the isle. They should have no great trouble making certain that my commands are carried out. But I doubt that you would care for the means by which they will do so."

For an instant Levy was so shocked at the unsubtle threat that she couldn't speak. Then fury swamped her. "Sir, I assure you that there is no need to employ armed men in order to establish your authority here on Desire. Nor will I allow such a thing. This is a peaceful land and I intend for it to stay that way."

Logic and reason would seem to dictate that the peaceful-ness of a manor must begin in the household of its lord and lady. Do you agree?"

"Aye, but—"

"If you would have your people trust me and honor me as their lord, then they must see that I enjoy your respect."

Levy saw the trap yawning wide before her. She hated to admit it, but she was very much afraid that Gajeel was right. The peace and contentment of her people were her most important consideration.

Once again, as the lady of Desire, she had no choice but to do her duty.

"You have caught me in one of your clever snares, have you not, sir?"

"Nay," Gajeel said gently. "I merely offer you a carefully reasoned argument to explain my view of the problem. I know that you, being an exceedingly intelligent woman, will see the inescapable conclusion."

Levy gave a small, unladylike snort of sheer disgust. "And to think that I yearned for a husband who relied on his wits rather than his muscle. Something tells me that Sir Laxus would have been easier to manage."

Gajeel gave her a quizzical look. "Did you want a man you could manage easily? That requirement was not mentioned in your recipe, as I recall."

Levy glowered at him. "Do not jest with me, sir."

"I told you, I never jest."

"But you do, and in a most irritating fashion. However, that is neither here nor there at the moment. I concede that you have won your point." She paused, thinking quickly. "It would probably be best if we gave the appearance of sharing the marriage bed."

It was Gajeel's turn to grow wary. "The appearance?"

"Aye." Levy began to smile, well satisfied with her own logic. "I see no reason, why we cannot share a bedchamber."

"I am pleased that you agree with my conclusion."

"But," Levy finished triumphantly, "I see absolutely no need for us to actually share a bed."

"Hell's teeth, madam, you reason like a man of law."

Levy gave him her brightest, most dulcetly innocent smile. "As far as everyone else is concerned, we two shall retire to the same chamber every night, just as would any married lord and lady. But what goes on inside that chamber is no one else's concern but our own."

"As to that," Gajeel began ominously. "I do not believe—"

Levy seized the initiative. "No one else need know that we wish to become better acquainted before we consummate the marriage. It will be our private business."

"It will?"

"Aye. This way we shall both gain our objectives, sir. As far as my people will know, you will enjoy my wifely respect. I, in turn, shall have the time I want to grow better acquainted with you."

Gajeel contemplated her with an expression of grudging admiration. "It occurs to me that Laxus of Dreyar does not know how truly fortunate he is to have escaped marriage to you. You would have made a minced-meat tart of him, my lady."

The silvery fog that shrouded Desire on the morning of Levy's wedding was seen as an ill omen by virtually everyone on the isle. The murmurs of concern began among the small group of female servants who helped Levy bathe and dress.

"The recluse said this day would be dimmed by cold smoke from the fires of hell," one of the women muttered. "She was right."

"'Tis merely a bit of fog," Levy said. "It will be gone by midmorning." She stood patiently while her best gown, a vibrant blue-green in hue, was slipped over her head. The long, deep sleeves of the dress were turned back to reveal the brilliant yellow lining. The neck and hem were embroidered in yellow and white silk thread.

"I trust my lady is correct." Eunice had been a serving maid in the household since the days of Levy's infancy. She did not hesitate to voice her opinion. She adjusted a silver circlet around Levy's hair, anchoring the delicate gold net in place.

"All will be well, Eunice."


	15. Chapter 14

"All will be well, Eunice."

"Do not be so certain, my lady. Everyone knows how ye threatened to deny Kurogane his rights in the bedchamber. I warrant he'll not tolerate such defiance. I fear for yer very life."

"If you are referring to our small argument yesterday morning, calm yourself," Levy said airily. "My threat was spoken in the heat of anger. I intend to accept Sir Gajeel as my husband just as I have accepted him as lord of this manor. I have already told him as much."

"Saints be praised." Eunice sighed with relief. "Everyone on the isle will be well pleased to learn that, madam. 'Tis for the best, y'll see."

"That's what Sir Gajeel says," Levy said dryly.

"Now, then." Eunice cleared her throat. She glanced quickly to the left and then to the right, apparently assuring herself that the other servants were busy delving into the carved chest on the far side of the chamber. She leaned close and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Just in case there is a bit of a problem tonight, I want ye to take this."

Levy glanced down at the tiny, cloth-wrapped object Eunice thrust into her hand. "What is it?"

"Hush, not so loud. 'Tis a small vial of chicken blood."

"Oh, no, not you, too, Eunice."

"There, now, not another word, madam. 'Tis neither here nor there, as far as I'm concerned. What's done is done, and it weren't yer fault, whether the man was Sir Laxus or that grand knight ye lost yer heart to last year."

"But Eunice—"

"The thing is, men as proud as Kurogane tend to get fair exercised about this sort of thing. A man such as he will want to be assured that his lady's honor is as unstained as his own."

"An interesting thought." Levy grinned. "Mayhap I should make a speech at the feast to assure everyone that I shall go to my marriage bed at least as virginal as my husband."

"'Tis nay a matter for jest," Eunice grumbled. "Just promise me y'll keep the chicken blood close to hand tonight. Sprinkle a bit on the sheets afore morning and all will be well."

"I must remember to ask Sir Gajeel how he intends to prove his virginity to me."

Unfortunately, the gray mist did not evaporate by the time the wedding ceremony took place. Levy felt the chill through her wool cloak as she rode her palfrey slowly through the crowded street.

She head the murmurs on all sides and knew that Beatrice's prediction of disaster had spread far and wide. Every villager, every fanner, every member of the convent had heard it.

"Smoke from the fires that burn in hell…."

"'Tis an ill omen"

"Our lady should never have defied him" Cana the brewer crossed herself as Levy rode past. "I pray he will not murder her in her bed tonight"

Levy ignored the comments. She kept her eyes on the church door, where Gajeel waited for her. He had ridden to the church ahead of her, accompanied by all of his men in a grand procession that had impressed the villagers.

He was good at that sort of thing, she reflected. He knew how to make his presence felt. Gajeel could alarm or intimidate or amaze at will. He was adept at the extravagant, very calculated gesture when it suited him.

In spite of the chill in the air, Levy's palms grew damp on the palfrey's reins. She met Gajeel's solemn, watchful gaze and prayed that she had done the right thing when she had chosen him as lord of Desire. Her future and the future of her people hung in the balance.

Gajeel did not take his eyes off her as she rode forward to meet him. When she brought the palfrey to a halt, he dismounted and walked toward her.

His massive hands were strong and sure around her waist as he lifted Levy down from the saddle. Without a word he led her to the church door, where the priest waited.

Levy took a deep breath and prepared to say the vows that would forever link her fortunes and the fortunes of Desire with those of Kurogane.

An hour later, in front of the large crowd that had assembled in the great hall, Pantherlily opened a massive chest. He lifted out the contents with an air of solemn ceremony. A shimmering rainbow of silks spilled from his hands.

The throng gasped appreciatively.

"My lord's gifts to his esteemed bride," Pantherlily announced in ringing tones.

One by one he held aloft long, lustrous lengths of rich fabric from the East. Bolts of crimson silk shot through with gold and silver threads were unwrapped and displayed. Lengths of green silk as dark in hue as precious emeralds appeared. Yellows and oranges the shade of brilliant sunsets streamed forth from the chest. The variety and colors of the exquisite materials seemed unending.

The villagers roundly cheered their approval as they inspected Kurogane's costly bride gifts.

Everyone was duly impressed. The oohs and aahs cascaded through the hall. Neighbor murmured to neighbor in tones of deep satisfaction. It was clear to one and all that their lady had chosen a wealthy lord.

And apparently a generous one.

The silks were followed by casks of valuable spices. Saffron, cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, cumin, and pepper were presented. Again the crowd roared its appreciation of the respect their new lord was showing to their beloved lady.

Levy listened to the comments of her people. They were well pleased. The villagers knew that their lord's wealth reflected directly on the entire Isle of Desire. The inhabitants would be bathed in the glow of his prestige and power.

On a more practical level, Gajeel's personal wealth was insurance that people would continue to prosper under his governance.

"A bastard born, yet he has won great riches for himself by his own hand," John Blacksmith said to a farmer. "'Tis a good sign."

"Aye." The farmer bobbed his head sagely. "He'll take good care of these lands. Lady Levy chose well."

John chuckled. "'Tis not clear who did the choosing. If you ask me, Lord Gajeel took a hand in making her decision for her."

Levy wrinkled her nose, but she gave no other indication that she had overheard the remark. She was not entirely certain she could refute it.

When Gajeel's gifts to his bride had all been properly displayed and suitably admired, yet another chest was brought forward. New murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowd. When the second chest was opened, a great pile of coins was revealed.

The cries of wonder turned to whoops of delight when it became clear that the coins were to be handed out to the villagers.

"Your husband, it would seem, does not come to this marriage a pauper," Prioress Kinana observed quietly. She stood next to Levy and watched as Gajeel's men handed out a coin to everyone in the manor.

"Aye, he brings the wealth he earned as Kurogane of Wyckmere," Levy said. "And he does not mind displaying it, does he?"

"A great lord must display his wealth and power. How else will people know of it?"

Levy sighed. "He had money enough before he married me. But he did not have lands."

"Now he has those, too." Kinana looked at her. "Are you content with this marriage, my daughter?"

"'Tis done," Levy said quietly. "There is no point in debating the matter now."

"'Tis not quite done. There is still the business of your wedding night."

"As to that, I assure you I have everything in hand."

Kinana cleared her throat. "There is gossip that you lost your temper with your new lord yesterday morn and threatened to deny him his husbandly privileges tonight."

"'Twas a foolish challenge," Levy said distantly. "He made me very angry and I made certain statements which I have since withdrawn."

"I am pleased to hear that. You are a woman of strong passions. You do not always govern your emotions as well as you govern your lands. Now that you are a married woman, you must exert more control over yourself."

"Aye, my lady." She could do without an admonishing speech on the importance of self-mastery today, Levy thought glumly. She had enough weighing on her mind as it was.

"You must guard your temper whenever you are in your husband's presence," Kinana continued. "'Tis obvious that Sir Gajeel is not a man who will tolerate defiance in his wife."

"I have already heard this lecture. Why is it that everyone else seems to think she knows more about managing Lord Gajeel than I do?"

"Mayhap because the rest of us are older and wiser. Heed me, my child. If you would manage your lord, you must do so with a gentle tongue and a woman's clever ways."

"Very well, madam. I shall heed your advice. You need not alarm yourself about my safety tonight. When the time comes, I shall welcome my lord into my bedchamber."

Kinana smiled complacently. "Marriage is difficult enough without starting it off by offending your lord on your wedding night. And since we are speaking of making a good beginning, I may as well give you this now before I forget."

Levy glanced down as Kinana removed a small, carefully wrapped bundle from a pouch that hung from the girdle of her habit. "A gift, madam? How kind of you. What is it?"

"A small vial of chicken blood."

Levy choked back laughter. "I vow, I am going to be awash in the stuff."

"What do you mean?"

"You are not the first one to give me such a thoughtful gift." Levy stuffed the small packet into the little woven pouch on her own girdle. "I thank you, madam. I shall add it to my collection."

"Keep one of the vials close by tonight. Sprinkle a bit on the sheets before your lord awakes and all will be well."

"What would you say, madam, if I were to tell you that such a precaution is unnecessary?"

"As to that, I make no comment," Kinana said briskly. "You are a woman, not a young girl. You have carried out a woman's duties and responsibilities here on this manor since you were twelve years old. I am well aware of your feelings for Raymond de Coleville and as far as I am concerned, whatever transpired between the two of you is your affair."

"Thank you," Levy said. "But in truth, Raymond was a most chivalrous knight. He and I—"

Kinana held up a hand to stop the tale. "As I said, the matter of your virginity is your business and yours alone. But husbands, especially knights as proud as Sir Gajeel, seldom see such matters in that light."

"I disagree. I think they are quite capable of overlooking such small details when a woman's dowry is sufficiently large."

"Heed me well, my daughter. Men, even the more intelligent among them, as I believe Lord Gajeel to be, are fundamentally simple creatures."

"So?"

"So, as long as they believe honor is satisfied, they are inclined to be generous and chivalrous, especially to a new bride. I would have you give your husband the gift that will content him most on his wedding night so that you, in turn, will find contentment in your marriage on the morrow."

Levy patted the new vial of blood that was safely stored in her girdle purse. "I must remember to say a prayer for all those noble chickens that have died for my honor this day."

"You'll be eating some of them at the banquet."

The feasting began shortly before noon and carried on without pause throughout the afternoon and long into the night. Everyone on the isle was invited, from the poorest laborer to the plumpest farmer. Even the nuns of Saint Hermione's partook of the extravagant array of food and ale along with everyone else.

Although she had given orders to spare no expense, Levy was impressed, in spite of herself, with what Mirajane and the household servants had accomplished in such a short period of time. Elaborate preserves of turnips and carrots flavored with mustard seed were sent to the tables. Stuffed ducks, fragrant pottages, broiled fish, and honeyed chicken and pork tarts were carried to the hall in a constant stream from the kitchens.

The celebration took on the boisterous mood of a fair. Children played games in the courtyard. Men told ribald jokes. Jet and Droy entertained everyone with their tabor, flute, and harp. Happy helped himself to a bite from every serving plate in sight.

The ominous fog which gripped the isle was forgotten as the river of ale and wine took effect. The main hall was crammed with people who drank toast after toast to the bride and groom at the head table.

Out in the courtyard tables had been set up to feed those who could not be squeezed inside the hall. Braziers warded off the chill in the air.

As the night deepened, the fire in the central hall threw a warm, golden glow over the raucous scene. Although she was seated next to him, the noise and merriment made it nearly impossible for Levy to engage in conversation with her new husband. She was, however, intensely aware of his gaze sliding intimately over her from time to time.

The water clock at the far end of the hall had just marked the hour before midnight when Lucy caught Levy's eye. It was time to go upstairs to the bridal chamber.

For no apparent reason, Levy's fingers suddenly trembled as she gripped her goblet. She put her unfinished wine down very slowly and looked at Gajeel.

He leaned toward her so that she would be able to hear him. "I comprehend that it is time for my bride to leave the hall?"

"Aye, so it would seem." Levy did not care for the inexplicable attack of unease that had just assailed her. There was nothing to fear tonight, she reminded herself, no reason to shiver in anticipation or dread. Nothing at all was going to happen. She had made her position clear to Gajeel yesterday. He had not argued or raised an objection.

They had an understanding. They would become friends before they became lovers.

Lovers. The word sang in Levy's head. She recalled the one kiss Gajeel had given her and grew warm all over.

Gajeel rose to his feet. The laughter and the loud conversation ceased abruptly. A hush claimed the crowd as all eyes turned toward the head table.

Levy knew that everyone in the hall was waiting to see what would happen next. It was time for her to carry out her end of the bargain that she had struck with Gajeel. She must go to the bridal chamber with the air of a willing, welcoming bride.

Gajeel lifted his silver goblet and looked down at Levy. His gaze was brilliant and intent. Levy swallowed. Her smile felt shaky.

Friends first. Then lovers.

She could trust Kurogane, she told herself. He would keep his end of the bargain.

"I drink a toast to my fair and lovely bride," Gajeel said into the taut silence. He took a deep sip from the goblet.

Cheers rang through the hall. The boisterous crowd pounded tankards on the tables.

Gajeel set his goblet down and drew the Iron God Sword from its scabbard. The steel flashed in the firelight as he held the blade aloft just as he had the day of his arrival. A murmur of excitement rippled through the hall.

"I am a fortunate man, for I have wed a most gracious lady." Gajeel's voice carried to the farthest corner of the large chamber.

A shout of agreement went up from the audience. Levy smiled wryly. Kurogane really was very good at making the grand gesture.

"Hear me, good people of Desire," Gajeel said. "Listen well, for I would have all those present here tonight witness that I give this sword, which had never been stained with dishonor, once more into the hands of my lady. This I do as a symbol of regard for her. She is now my wife. She holds my honor in her hands even as she holds my sword."

"Aye, aye"

Another round of enthusiastic shouts and yells echoed from the stone walls, the revelers slamming tankards and knife butts against the tables.

Gajeel reversed the blade and presented the sword, hilt first, to Levy. "Know that I am well pleased in my wife."

The thundering yells of approval made it impossible for Levy to say a word. She did not know if she would have been able to speak had the hall been empty.

For some reason, Gajeel's extravagantly chivalrous gesture, though she knew it to be carefully calculated for the effect it would have on the crowd, brought tears to her eyes.

She took the heavy, crystal-pommeled sword from his hand and rose to her feet.

Once more the hall fell silent in anticipation. Levy drew a deep breath and prepared to make a formal gesture of her own.

She nodded at Happy, who immediately came forward down the aisle between a row of trestle tables. He carried a large bunch of dried flowers and herbs.

"My lord," Levy said, "in exchange for the honor and strength that you bring to us this day, I give into your safekeeping the source of the prosperity of our fair isle."

Happy went down on one knee and handed the fragrant sheaf of dried lavender, rosemary, roses, and mugwort to Levy. She took it from his hand and gave the ribbon-tied bundle to Gajeel.

Gajeel looked down at the sheaf of flowers and herbs that were symbolic of the perfumed isle. When he raised his eyes, Levy was stunned by the fierceness of his gaze.

"I will guard this isle, its people, and its lady with more care than I would use to guard my own life," Gajeel said so that all could hear.

Levy saw the unwavering promise in his strong face. She knew that he meant every word. Their personal relationship was far from settled, but she could be certain that her isle was in good hands.

She smiled tremulously. "I have chosen well."

"I would have you believe so."

Levy could hardly breathe. For a moment it was as if she and Gajeel were alone in the hall. She could feel the unbreakable, invisible cords that now bound them together.

Friends first, Levy reminded herself. It was far too soon for her and Gajeel to become lovers.

Much too soon.

They barely knew each other.

Lucy rose from her place at the table and hurried toward Levy. The movement freed Levy of the spell that had settled on her. It was time to leave the hall.

Aware of the growing curiosity and expectation of the throng, Levy gripped the heavy sword and looked at Gajeel.

"I go now to prepare to welcome my husband to the bridal chamber," Levy said very distinctly.

The crowd cheered and tankards were raised.

Gajeel raised his goblet once more. "I pray you will not delay a moment longer, my lady. As a gardener, you know well that some herbs are most potent when they are shriveled and dried. There are others, however, which are best used when the stalk is strong and fully erect. 'Tis the latter variety that I shall bring to you tonight."

Laughter shook the hall.

Levy's eyes widened as the meaning of his words sank home. "For a man who claims that he does not jest, my lord, you have an unusual turn of phrase," she muttered.

"Aye, well, a wedding is an unusual event, madam."

Lucy seized her arm. "Come. We must hurry." She tugged impatiently.

Levy sent Gajeel a speaking look as she was led away.

"Have a care with my sword," Gajeel called after her. "It is the only one I have."

More shouts of laughter rang through the chamber.

"I vow, I shall find some good use for it." Levy clutched the blade hilt very tightly as Lucy drew her toward the staircase. "'Twill make an excellent stake from which to string pea vines in my garden."

Shouts of encouragement accompanied Levy and Lucy as they picked up their skirts and hurried toward the tower stairs.

"Take this," Lucy whispered to Levy as they went down the hall. "Hide it about your person. Do not let Lord Gajeel or anyone else see it."

Levy's fingers closed around yet another small object. "Let me hazard a guess. Chicken blood?"

"Aye. Sprinkle some on the sheets before morning and all will be well."

Several other women appeared in the hall. Giggling and laughing, they all crowded into the bedchamber to prepare the bride.

Within a few minutes Levy's gown had been stripped from her. A beautifully embroidered night robe of fine soft linen was dropped over her head and she was tucked into the sweet-smelling bed.

"There, now, ye look lovely," Eunice said as she ran a comb through Levy's unbound hair. She leaned close and lowered her voice. "Don't be forgetting the chicken blood."

"Believe me, I am unlikely to forget it."

Lucy went to the door and put her ear to the wood. "I can hear Lord Gajeel and his men on the stairs."

"Grooms is always an impatient lot." Agnes elbowed her way to the side of the bed. "As yer old nurse, 'tis my right to say good night to the maid I helped raise. On the morrow, I'll greet the woman who rises from this bed."

"Hurry," Lucy said. "They're almost here."

Masculine voices and roars of mirth could be heard echoing down the corridor. The serving girls quickly poured wine into two goblets that stood on a table near the fire. Eunice dabbed a tear from her eye and smiled benignly.

Everyone's attention was on the door, waiting for it to open. Agnes leaned over the bed.

"Here, now, take this, m'lady." She pressed a small object into Levy's hand.

With a sense of resignation, Levy glanced down at yet another small vial. "Thank you, Agnes. You cannot know how much your thoughtfulness means to me."

"Hush." Agnes cast a quick look about to make certain no one had overheard. "Be sure to dab a few drops on the sheets ere morning and all will be well."

"But, Agnes—"

"'Tis just a useful precaution." Agnes fussed with the bedding. "When you've lived as long as I have, ye learn it pays to help nature along now and again. Especially when a man's honor is involved."

The door crashed open before Levy could argue.

Pantherlily and the other men thrust Gajeel into the chamber. The serving maids shrieked.

"Here's your new lord, my lady." Pantherlily swept a deep, mocking bow toward Levy. When he raised his head, he wore a distinctly lecherous grin. "He has come here tonight to practice with his sword. I trust you'll see to it that he gets a good deal of exercise with it. We would not want Kurogane of Wyckmere to grow soft."

The men succumbed once more to uproarious laughter. Lucy and the other women shooed them back out of the chamber.

It took a minute or two to clear the room, but at last the door was firmly closed.

Levy and Gajeel were alone at last.

Levy held the white linen sheets very tightly to her breast as she met Gajeel's eyes.


	16. Chapter 15

WARNING MILD LEMON AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! Enjoy ^_^

* * *

He looked at her as she lay back against the scented linen pillows. The air of possessiveness in his eyes stole Levy's voice.

Gajeel finally broke the short, taut silence. He glanced around the chamber with an inquiring expression. "My sword?"

"Over there." Levy moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. "On the window seat."

"Ah, yes. Safe and sound." Gajeel did not go to the window seat to collect his blade.

Instead, he crossed the chamber to where a small table stood in front of the fire. He picked up the goblets full of wine and turned toward the bed.

Levy realized that she was clutching the sheets with such force that her knuckles were white. She made herself unclench her fingers one by one and then searched frantically for something appropriately casual to say.

This was not a real wedding night, after all.

"Well, I'm certainly glad that business is over and done." Levy shoved aside the bedding and fairly leaped out of the massive, four-posted bed.

Gajeel watched impassively as she grabbed a chamber robe and flung it quickly around her shoulders. Holding the garment closed at her throat with one hand, she summoned up what she hoped was a comradely smile. "I suppose weddings are always troublesome affairs, are they not, my lord?"

"I wouldn't know." Gajeel watched her intently as he offered her one of the goblets. "I have never been married before."

Levy blushed. "No, of course not. I did not mean to imply that you had." She snatched the wine from his hand and took a healthy swallow. She'd had almost nothing to eat or drink all day. For some reason she'd been too tense to partake of the feast. "I vow, I do not understand why I am feeling so odd tonight. I wonder if I am ill."

"Mayhap you are feeling some of the same things that I am feeling tonight." Gajeel took a sip of his own wine. Then he removed Levy's goblet from her fingers. He set both small vessels down on the table.

"My lord?" Levy realized that her voice had risen to a small squeak. "Are you feeling unsettled, also?"

"Aye."

"Mayhap we both could use a draught of camomile and mint tea," she suggested helpfully. "'Tis excellent for an uneasy stomach. I shall summon one of the servants."

"Nay, I know of a far better cure."

Gajeel pulled her gently but relentlessly into his arms. When she stood shivering against him, still clutching the chamber robe as if it were a talisman, he claimed her mouth with his own.

Gajeel felt Levy's undisguised shiver of surprise; a flash of confusion washed through her, causing her to tremble in his arms. He kept his mouth pressed against hers, willing her to respond the way she had the last time he kissed her.

He knew she wanted him. He had sensed the passion in her that first afternoon. All he had to do was get past the logical defenses she had erected.

Relief soared in him when he heard her tiny, half-strangled gasp of excitement.

She would be a true wife to him. The bastard of Wyckmere had got himself a bride.

And a future.

Her mouth was hesitant at first and then her lips softened deliciously beneath his own. Gajeel knew for certain that he had guessed correctly. He had not misread the feminine curiosity in her eyes, nor had he misjudged the significance of her trembling fingers.

The good fortune that had kept him alive during his years as a hunter of outlaws had followed him into his new life as a farmer of flowers. He had gained far more from this match than he had dared to hope.

Levy made a small sound of anticipation. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders. Gajeel groaned. He had been enduring the torments of a half-aroused body all day. Now he was fully erect, eager for what awaited him. The time had come to claim his wife.

Gajeel felt Levy shudder and press herself against him. An urge to laugh nearly overwhelmed him. He fought it back. This was not the time to succumb to mirth. Still, he reveled in the moment. It was obvious that all Levy's foolish talk of waiting until their acquaintanceship had deepened into friendship was simply that: foolish.

Levy was as eager to taste the pleasure of the marriage bed as he was.

Gajeel was relieved and exultant. Now another battle lay ahead of him. But he was accustomed to fighting for what he wanted. And he most definitely wanted Levy.

He recognized that Levy's disgust for Laxus of Dreyar was genuine. He still was not certain what to believe about her past experience of lovemaking. But Levy's sweetly eager mouth told him that whatever had happened between her and Laxus, it had not given her a distaste for the business.

Mayhap it was Raymond de Coleville who had taught her how much mutual pleasure a man and a woman could find together.

Whichever man had been responsible, Gajeel was not particularly grateful to him.

"My lord." Levy's voice was a breathless sigh against Gajeel's lips. She was warm and soft against his chest. Her arms wound slowly around his neck. "No doubt we should not kiss in this manner yet, but I vow, I cannot seem to stop."

Her confession sent Gajeel's blood pounding through his veins. The heavy beat was a distant echo of his war-horse's hoofbeats. His whole body reacted violently to the promise of Levy's gentle surrender.

The lady was ready and willing, not an anxious, innocent maid who had to be led slowly into bed.

"Be assured that I have no intention of halting these kisses yet." Gajeel stroked the edge of her mouth with the pads of his thumbs. Her lips trembled and parted. Her cheeks, flushed and glowing, were warm to the touch. Her eyes were fathomless emeralds that held the secrets of a woman's passion waiting to be unleashed.

If it wasn't Laxus who had taught Levy the arts of love, Gajeel thought, then it had most likely been Raymond de Coleville, her much-vaunted pattern of chivalry. Damn his soul.

Which one had it been? he wondered.

Or had she taken two lovers?

In that moment Gajeel could cheerfully have given each of his unknown rivals a view of the Iron God Sword.

Having made the acquaintance of Laxus, Gajeel concluded that it was the mysterious Raymond de Coleville who worried him the most.

Yet another challenge for Kurogane of Wyckmere to conquer, he told himself. He had never been one to back down from a challenge.

He deepened the kiss, knowing that he had no right to resent the fact that Levy had lain in the arms of another man. He was no virgin, either, Gajeel thought. And he was a bastard into the bargain: no great prize for any lady of her station.

Levy was a healthy young woman of seventeen years who had been on her own and burdened with the responsibilities of managing the manor for much of her life.

She was also a very curious and obviously intelligent woman who had never planned to wed. Such a woman would not have been averse to tasting the forbidden fruit when the opportunity presented itself in the guise of a handsome young knight.

Gajeel knew he was swiftly driving himself mad. It struck him that he had never before known the knife-sharp pangs of raw jealousy.

Jealousy?

The realization brought him back to his senses.

He tore his mouth from Levy's and framed her face between his hands. Her eyes were luminous and full of wonder as she looked up at him.

"What's done is done," Gajeel muttered.

"I do not understand, my lord."

"It matters not. From this night forward, you are mine. You are my lady wife, the future mother of my children. I vow, I will make you forget Laxus and Raymond de Coleville and any other man who has come before me."

Her brows drew together in a quizzical expression. "But why would I wish to forget Laxus and Raymond? One is a neighbor and the other was a friend."

"Enough. Do not speak of either of them again tonight." Gajeel ensured her silence with another kiss.

She mumbled something unintelligible which sounded very much like a protest, or at the very least an attempt to start a spirited argument. Gajeel did not want to listen. He eased her lips apart and sank his tongue into her mouth.

Levy made another odd, somewhat strangled sound. Then she tightened her arms around his neck and touched her tongue to his.

Gajeel sucked in a savage breath, swept her up into his arms, and tumbled her onto the bed. The hunger to be inside her nearly consumed him. He lowered himself heavily down onto the white linen sheets and reached for Levy.

"My lord."

"Hush." He flung one leg over her thighs. Conscious of his great weight and her much smaller size, he braced himself on his arms as he leaned over her. "We will discuss the matter later. Right now I only want to kiss you."

"Oh." The frowning uncertainty vanished from her eyes. She touched his cheek with her fingertip. "Well, I suppose there is no great harm in mere kissing, is there?"

"None, And even if there were, I doubt the knowing would stop me tonight."

He gazed, enthralled, at the sight of her blue hair flowing across the herb-laced pillows. Slowly he fisted one hand in it and looped the silken skein around his fingers. He brought the stuff to his nose and inhaled deeply. "You smell of flowers, just like everything else on the isle."

"I expect that you'll grow accustomed to it, my lord."

"Aye." He bent his head to nibble at the elegant line of her throat. "I expect I will."

He eased aside the edge of her chamber robe and listened with deep pleasure to her quickly indrawn breath. He moved his mouth downward to the swell of her breast, which was partially revealed by her white linen night robe.

"My lord—"

"My name is Gajeel." She was so amazingly soft. Her skin was finer than the costly silks he had given her as a wedding gift.

"Gajeel." She sounded breathless. "You said you only wished to kiss me."

"Aye. Everywhere." The pure, perfect curve of her small breast was the most alluring sight Gajeel had ever seen in his life. He ached to see the nipple that was still concealed beneath the daintily embroidered neckline of her gown. The outline of the small, ripe bud was plain. He stroked one finger across it, delighting in its shape.

"Gajeel" Levy froze at the caress. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. Her hands gripped his shoulders as if she would push him away. "Sir, I do not think this is a sound notion. You said there was no harm in kisses and I agreed. But this is too much."

"You want kisses, my lady?" He deftly unfastened the laces at the front of the robe. "Kisses you shall have. A hundred of them. A thousand."

"Gajeel." She batted ineffectually at his big hands. "I do not think—"

"Aye, madam. Do not try to think. Not tonight. The devil knows well that I certainly cannot."

Her rosy nipples looked even more enticing than he had imagined, and his imagination was very powerful. The crowns that graced Levy's breasts were puckered and firm and full of promise. Gajeel put his mouth to one and sucked it gently between his teeth.

Levy's reaction was a small shriek. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "By Mavis's elbow, my lord. You call this kissing?"

"Aye. Although 'tis more like drinking nectar made of honey and almonds."

"Are you—" Levy seemed to have difficulty getting the words out. She clutched at him. "Are you speaking the truth, sir?"

"The absolute truth."

Gajeel wondered if Raymond de Coleville had not bothered to sample Levy's breasts when he'd helped himself to the other delectable dishes she'd offered. It occurred to him then that his rivals had no doubt been obliged to work in haste when they had gone about the business of seducing Levy.

Laxus had been bent on forcing a marriage.

Raymond's undertaking had been a more perilous affair. He had no doubt been well aware at the time that he had no intention of offering marriage. Mayhap the need for secrecy and haste had made him careless and clumsy.

Gajeel kissed the valley between Levy's breasts and decided there was a great advantage to being a husband. A man had all the time in the world to seduce his wife in the privacy of the marriage bed.

Gajeel trained his kisses lower, easing apart the night robe as he traveled slowly toward his goal. The scent of Levy's womanly arousal, far more intoxicating than the rose and lavender of her perfume, drew him now. She was responding to him and the knowledge sent another wave of desire crashing through him.

"Sir. My lord. Gajeel" Levy squeezed her eyes shut and arched up off the bed. "You must not kiss me anymore. I fear my senses are as scattered as bees in the wind."

"As are mine." Gajeel raised his head to look down into her flushed face. He watched her closely as he slid his hand beneath the hem of her shift.

Her eyes flew open. She shook her head once in a gesture that could have meant anything. "Please."

"Aye. I shall do my best to please you. You will forget both of them long before dawn." He leaned down and took her mouth as he moved his hand along the inside of her thigh.

"Forget who? I…oh, Gajeel, I do not think this is wise. I am concerned for you, my lord."

He had no notion of what she was talking about and was not inclined to ask. Gajeel had other things on his mind at the moment. His hand closed over the warm, damp flesh between her thighs.

Levy went rigid beneath his touch. She shut her eyes again and appeared to stop breathing for a few tense seconds. Her short nails were clenched so deeply into his shoulders he knew he would find marks there in the morning. The thought pleased him.

Gajeel probed gently, slowly, tenderly. He parted soft, honeyed flesh as if he were parting the leaves of a lush and fragile flower until he discovered the hidden treasure he sought. Levy moaned when he stroked the gem with fingers that had been moistened in her own dew.

He went to work with great care, circling, teasing, tugging, and pressing.

Levy was obviously incapable of further protest. Gajeel knew that she was now helplessly lost in the pleasure he gave her. She shivered and twisted and clung. The realization that she was responding to his touch with such passion gave him more satisfaction than anything he had ever known.

She was so caught up in the sensual spell he had woven that she did not even notice when he lowered his head once more to kiss the taut little bud that he had coaxed into full arousal.

He knew the precise instant when she did become aware of what was happening to her.

She convulsed as though she had been struck by lightning.

Gajeel vowed that he could see the sparks.

Her lips parted on a high, shocked screech of amazement. The cry of feminine discovery and boundless wonder was choked off almost as soon as it had begun, but it verified what Gajeel had begun to suspect. Whatever Levy had experienced at the hands of her previous lovers, she had not learned the pleasures of her own release.

Her response was more than he had dared hope to inspire. She trembled in the throes of it. And so did Gajeel. She lifted herself, opened herself, offered herself to him. She was a mystical, magical creature who enthralled his senses. He was literally fascinated by her swiftly approaching release.

She shivered like a blossom in the wind.

Gajeel very nearly spilled his seed as the hot satisfaction roared through him. By tomorrow morning, both Laxus and Raymond de Coleville would be distant dull memories for Levy.

"Gajeel, Gajeel." Levy gulped air. "What have you done to me? What have you done?"

"Nothing that cannot be repeated many, many times before dawn."

He waited until she went limp. When the last tiny shiver had ended, Gajeel eased himself up the length of Levy's boneless body until he was once more braced on his elbows.

He looked down into her stunned face.

He smiled.

She stared up at him, apparently silenced at last by the enormity of what she had experienced. The play of emotions in her eyes was entrancing. Confusion, wonder, amazed delight, curiosity, and feminine speculation all blended together to render her mute.

It was the first time that Gajeel had ever seen her bereft of speech.

His smile turned into a knowing grin.

Gajeel would have laughed in that moment if he had not been so uncomfortable. He was as hard and unyielding as the steel of the Iron God Sword, but he was not nearly so cold as his blade. Just the opposite, Gajeel thought. He was on fire and there was only one way to quench the flames that burned in his loins this night.

He sat up with his back to Levy and began to strip off his clothing. He was ruefully aware that his hands were shaking with the force of his need as he unbuckled his belt. He tossed the heavy leather strap aside.

"Did you…did you feel the same things I felt?" Levy asked. She sounded weak and breathless.

"Not yet. On my oath, it was a near thing, but I managed to keep from disgracing myself on your fine white sheets. Be assured that I have saved myself for you, madam."

Gajeel pulled off his outer tunic and hurled it in the same general direction as his belt.

"You mean that you have not yet experienced these strange feelings?"

He hooked one ankle over his knee and jerked off a leather boot. "Have no fear, madam, you'll be well aware of my release when I sheath myself in your silken scabbard." His mouth quirked upward at one corner again. "Unless, of course, you're too preoccupied with your own pleasure at that particular moment to notice."

Levy sat up abruptly. "By Hermione's sainted slipper, this marriage business is far more confusing than I had thought it would be."

"We shall reason it out together."

"But this is impossible."

"Hell's teeth." Gajeel's hand stilled on his other boot. He turned his head to stare at Levy. "What are you talking about?"

"I had no notion that you would be able to make me feel such powerful emotions." Levy pushed her hair out of her eyes and gazed at him anxiously. "Or that you would be faced with such temptation yourself, my lord."

"Levy, I don't know what kind of lovers Laxus and de Coleville were, but I can promise you that I—"

"Raymond de Coleville was never my lover." Levy clutched at the edges of her unlaced robe and scrambled to her knees amid the rumpled sheets. Her eyes flashed. "Nor was Laxus of Dreyar, although no one seems to believe me. I vow, I have had my fill of everyone assuming that I am no virgin."


	17. Chapter 16

Gajeel reached out to touch her hand. "Calm yourself, Levy. There is no need to protest your innocence to me. It doesn't matter."

"You're right." She scowled. "You will not hear any more argument on the subject from me, my lord."

"So be it. I am pleased to learn that."

"In truth, the status of my virginity is neither here nor there."

"Aye. What's done is done."

"And when all is said and done," she said a little too sweetly, "I have no doubt but that I come to this bed at least as pure and untouched as yourself."

Gajeel grimaced. "No doubt."

"Surely no man can ask more than that of a bride."

Gajeel was stunned to feel the sudden heat in his face. Belatedly he wondered if she was teasing him. He glared at her. "Mayhap we should change the subject, madam."

"Aye, you are right, sir." Her expression softened. She put out a hand and lightly touched his arm. "In all fairness, our mutual virginity, or lack of it, is not the problem at the moment, is it?"

"Nay." Gajeel was unable to think of anything else to say. He did not want to talk about anything at all. He simply wanted to make love to his wife. Was that too much to ask? he wondered glumly.

"The important thing," Levy continued crisply, "is that I have just learned how powerful physical desire truly is when it is wielded by a man of your nature, sir."

Gajeel eyed her cautiously. "My nature?"

"'Tis obvious you are a man of great passions."

"'Tis obvious you are a woman who incites great passions, madam."

"I am well aware that I have a responsibility in this matter," she assured him.

"Excellent. We have that much established, then." He dropped his second boot on the floor and rose to remove his undertunic.

Levy frowned in thought. "'Tis plain that we must take care to control this extremely volatile force before it assumes complete command of you, my lord."

Gajeel had his tunic half over his head. He stopped, hesitated for the count of three, and slowly released his grip on the garment. The gray gown fell back down over his body.

"What did you say?" he asked very softly.

Her expression of grave concern deepened. "I said that we must exercise extreme caution if we are to protect you, my lord."

"Protect me from what?" he roared, now out of patience.

Her eyes widened, but she appeared startled rather than afraid. "You're shouting."

"Nay, madam," he said through his teeth. "Not yet. But soon, mayhap. Very soon."

She sighed. "'Tis simply more evidence, of course."

"Evidence of what?"

"The strength of your passions." She smiled with gentle understanding. "'Tis clear that because of your warm nature, you are on the verge of forgetting our understanding."

"I am?"

"Aye. As your wife and for the sake of our growing friendship, I must help you resist this great temptation. After all, your honor is at stake."

Gajeel wondered if he had lost count of how many cups of wine he had downed during the long banquet. Indeed, he did not feel drunk, he thought, but his wits were beginning to reel.

"Are you trying to tell me that making love to you tonight will somehow put my honor in jeopardy?" he asked very carefully.

"I know how much it would distress you to awake in the morning knowing that you had allowed passion to seize you in its clutches and caused you to forget our understanding."

"By the fires of hell, madam, I do not believe what I am hearing. Forget that damned understanding. We did not have one."

She stared at him. "But we did, sir. We agreed that we would become friends before we consummated this marriage."

"No, we did not agree to that." He spaced each word out with great care. "You announced your foolish intention. But you never asked for my agreement. And by the devil, I never gave it."

"Surely you can see that if we succumb to passion tonight it will ruin our chances of creating a marriage based on friendship and trust."

Gajeel grabbed at the reins of his temper and held on to them with all of his strength. "This is the most crazed thing I have ever heard."

"You did not say that yesterday."

"Rest assured I was thinking it."

She looked stricken. "Do you not want trust and friendship to grow between us?"

"They will both come with time." He groped for a way to turn her logic in a new direction. "Do you trust me, Levy?"

"Aye." She sighed. "But you do not trust me."

"That is not true."

"You think that I have allowed other men to make love to me, even though I have told you that I have never lain with any other man."

"I have also told you that your virginity or lack of it does not matter to me. I am not concerned with the past. Only the future."

"I'm sure that is very gallant of you, sir, but we cannot have a satisfactory future together unless that future be built upon a foundation of trust." She fixed him with an unhappy gaze. "And you do not trust me. Admit it. You think I have lied to you."

"Devil take it, madam, your virginity is your own business."

"I appreciate your enlightened attitude on the subject. But that is not really the issue, is it?"

He speared his fingers through his hair. "I feel as though I am sinking into a marsh."

"Sir, I am convinced that we must both learn to trust each other if we are to be mutually content in our marriage."

He saw the pride and the hurt in her eyes and in that moment he suddenly knew that she was telling him the truth. No other man had touched her. He had been a fool to believe otherwise. Levy would never lie to him about such a thing.

Levy was too proud, too spirited, too bold to lie about anything.

Satisfaction rushed through him. He had no right to be so fortunate, he told himself, but he was not one to protest against the happy fate that had given him an untouched wife.

He smiled slowly. "I believe you when you say that no other man has made love to you."

She gazed at him, uncertain and wary. "'Tis the passion talking now, my lord. The lure of it is making you say what you think I want to hear."

He shook his head, still smiling. He recalled her untutored response to his intimate kisses. "Nay. I want you very much, but I am not such a weakling that I am a complete slave to passion. It does not have the power to make me lie. I believe you when you tell me that you are untouched, Levy."

Levy twisted her hands in her lap. "I wish I could be certain of that."

"You can be certain of it. You must learn to trust me as much as I trust you."

"Aye." She looked doubtful.

"You do trust me, do you not?"

"I think so."

"You think so?" He was suddenly incensed. "Levy a moment ago you said you did trust me."

"It is all too confusing to sort out tonight, my lord." She smiled apologetically. "I feel it would be best if we carried out my original plan."

"Original plan?"

"Aye. We will not consummate this marriage until we both feel confident that we enjoy each other's full and unwavering trust."

Gajeel closed his eyes briefly. "God give me strength, madam."

"I'm sure he will, Gajeel." Levy gave him a winning smile. "And in the meantime there is a pallet under the bed for you to use tonight."

He watched, dumbfounded, as she scurried to the edge of the bed, leaned down, and scrabbled around to pull out a sleeping pallet. "What in hell's name do you think you're doing?"

She looked up through the long swath of hair that was falling forward over her face. "Getting the pallet out for you."

He set his jaw. "I will sleep in the damned bed with you, wife."

She blinked and sat up slowly. "You're angry."

"Angry? Why should I be angry?" Gajeel asked very softly. He swung around and strode over to the window seat.

"Gajeel?"

He grasped the Iron God Sword and stalked back to the bed.

"My lord." Levy stared at the sword in his hand. Her hand went to her throat.

Gajeel raised the sword on high and then slammed the flat of the blade down onto the bed. Directly in the middle.

Levy gave a visible start. Then she turned her head warily to gaze down at the blade. It gleamed in the firelight, effectively dividing the massive bed into two portions.

"If this is how you wish to begin our married life," Gajeel said through his teeth, "so be it. The Iron God Sword shall share this bed with us tonight. It will protect you from my touch."

"I really do not think it's necessary to put your sword between us," Levy whispered.

"Have no fear, madam, you will sleep safe enough on your side of the bed. I shall occupy the other half."

"But the pallet—"

"I am not sleeping on the damned pallet. I have a right to my half of our bed, madam."

"I suppose that I could take the pallet."

"Nay. You will share the bed with me, lady. You desire proof of my self-mastery? Very well, you shall have it. Kindly let me know in the morning if you feel you can trust me.

Levy bit her lip but said nothing.

Gajeel ignored her as he jerked off the remainder of his clothing and tossed it aside. He heard her small, choked exclamation when she caught sight of his still-aroused body. He pretended to ignore it, but he knew that if he had not already decided that she was innocent, her stunned gaze would have told him the truth.

He was going to pay a high price for his bad judgment and worse management of the situation. And he had no one but himself to blame.

Gajeel crossed the chamber in three strides to tend to the fire. Then he went back across the room and yanked the bed curtains closed. He slid into bed beside Levy.

The Iron God Sword lay between them, a steel barrier to passion.

It was very dark. The curtains blocked the glow of the dying embers. Gajeel folded his arms behind his head and gazed up into the shadows. His loins ached. He was furious with himself.

It was going to be a very long night.

"Gajeel?" Levy's voice was very soft and tinged with anxiety.

"Aye?"

"It just occurred to me that a portion of the prediction came true."

"What prediction?"

"The prediction that you would draw your sword in the bridal chamber. And you did."

"Considering my luck of late, 'tis a wonder I did not trip on it and accidentally slit my own throat."


	18. Chapter 17

Levy awoke shortly before dawn, awash with regret.

She realized that she was alone in the big bed. She could not escape the overwhelming conviction that she had blundered very badly during the night.

She wondered if she had destroyed whatever chance she'd had for a warm and loving friendship with her husband.

Loving.

That was what she wanted, Levy realized. She wanted to love and be loved. She had convinced herself that a solidly built friendship might lead to real love between herself and her husband, but last night she had ruined everything.

Gajeel was not going to be feeling at all friendly toward her this morning.

She had made a mistake; she knew that now. But it was too late. She had angered him and in the process no doubt retreated several steps back from the kind of relationship she sought to forge.

Her stubborn pride and her arrogant faith in her own intelligence had gotten her into this mess. This was what came of not following the sound advice of those older and wiser than herself, she thought sadly. Everyone from Beatrice to her old nurse, Agnes, had advised her to fulfill her responsibilities as a wife on her wedding night.

Now she had to start over from the beginning. She must undo the damage she had done and try to rebuild what she had willfully torn asunder last night.

A small, rustling sound from the other side of the bed curtain made Levy freeze.

"Gajeel?"

"'Tis too early to rise on the morning after a wedding. Go back to sleep, Levy."

She listened to him move about and wondered if he was getting dressed. Through the crack in the curtain she caught a brief glimpse of his nude body as he went past the bed. The sight sent a delicious chill through her. Memories flooded back, causing her to grow warm.

She had thought she wanted a slender, lean man, one built like a cat, not a great war-horse. But last night, after she had gotten over the shock of seeing Gajeel's unclad body, she had soon changed her mind. She had discovered that she was not nearly as opposed to the notion of a very large husband as she had once believed herself to be.

A bit worried, mayhap, by the size of certain parts of him, but definitely not put off entirely by the overall notion.

Size, Levy decided, was only a problem in a man if his brain was quite small. When a man was blessed with intelligence and self-mastery, as Gajeel clearly was, his physical size did not matter much at all.

Yet another lesson learned the hard way.

Levy remembered the shattering sensations Gajeel had produced in her with his kisses and the touch of his fingers. He was no oafish, heavy-handed boor such as Laxus of Seabern. He was a man who was willing to be patient with a woman.

And while it was true that Gajeel had not vowed undying love nor composed poetry for her as Raymond once had, he was at least honest. He had not deliberately misled her the way Raymond had.

There was a soft thud on the other side of the curtain. Levy stirred and pushed back the covers so that she could sit up against the pillows. She could not hide here all day.

She put out a hand and gingerly explored the tumbled bedding. The Iron God Sword was gone. It was no doubt safely stowed back in its scabbard.

Levy winced at the memory of how Gajeel has used his sword to divide the bed. From now on, whenever she saw the blade, as she most certainly would every day of her life, she would recall her foolishness on her wedding night.

Some men, she knew, would have lost their tempers in a situation such as she had created last night. Some men would have turned violent.

Not Gajeel. It was true that he had been furious, but he had been in full control of his anger.

She had married a man whose skill at self-mastery matched his physical power.

Levy drew a deep breath. She had to face him sometime and apologize. Best to get the thing over and done. It had never been her way to put off a duty or an obligation.

"My lord, I would like to say how much I regret what happened last night."


	19. Chapter 18

"So do I."

She wished she could see his face. His tone was so cool and dry that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She plunged ahead with her apology. "I am well aware that I did not fulfill my duties as a wife. I had my reasons, as I explained to you, but this morning I have concluded that mayhap I did not proceed in a reasonable and logical fashion."

"In other words, you have decided that the pleasures of physical passion are more interesting than the intellectual joys of trust and friendship?"

"Oh, no, I do not mean that at all," she said quickly. "I still want our marriage to be founded on trust and friendship. 'Tis just that this morning I am not certain that I went about securing those things in the right way last night."

Gajeel yanked the curtain aside without any warning. He stood looking down at her with a speculative gleam in his eyes. Levy noticed that he had on his undertunic, but he was still barefoot. His fingers were closed around a small object which she could not make out.

"Are you telling me that sometime during the night you developed some trust in your new husband?" he asked rather casually.

She hesitated, aware that he was deliberately taunting her. The knowledge hurt. She composed herself in quiet dignity. "I would have us start anew, my lord. I am prepared to be a proper wife to you and consummate this marriage."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I trust you in many ways, Gajeel." She waved her hand in an earnest fashion to indicate the chamber and everything that lay beyond. "I trust you to protect this manor. I trust you to fulfill your responsibilities to my people. I believe that you will be a wise and generous lord."

"Is that all?"

She gave him a hopeful smile. "It seems to me that is a great deal to start out with, sir."

"Aye. But I would have more, madam." He studied her face. "I see you have been doing some thinking on the subject of our marriage."

"I spent hours thinking about it last night," she assured him.

"I, too, spent a good portion of the night contemplating our future together. I also came to a decision and your apology this morning does not alter that decision."

She watched him warily. "What decision did you reach?"

"The sword stays between us at night until you are certain that you trust me in all ways, most especially as a husband."

"I do trust you."

"No, madam, you do not. Last night you made it plain that you believed I was incapable of controlling my passions."

Levy's cheeks burned. "You proved me wrong, sir."

"Did I?"

"Aye. I apologize for that stupidity. I believed you to be so carried away by desire that you could not recall our understanding. I know now that you are very much in control of yourself and your passions and that you are very unlikely to be swayed by them."

"At this rate, your manner of reasoning will have us both twisted into knots. We will talk about it some other time. As you are wide awake, you may as well rise and get dressed."

"Gajeel, I think we should discuss this further."

"Nay, I am in no mood to continue this idiotic conversation this morning."

"You are still deeply offended by my actions last night, are you not?"

He motioned her to quit the bed — "Rise, madam. As I said, we will discuss this later."

Still she hesitated. A startling thought struck her. "Gajeel, were you more than offended last night? Were you hurt because you believed that I was rejecting you after you had given me so much pleasure?"

"Will you kindly get out of this damned bed before I remove you from it myself?"

Levy gazed at him in confusion. "Why must I rush from the bed?"

Gajeel's mouth thinned with the expression of a man who is very much put upon but doing his best to be patient. "I thought we might take an early morning stroll together along the cliffs."

Levy brightened immediately. "That would be wonderful. I do love an early morning walk."

"Dress warmly," he muttered. "The fog has lifted, but there is a chill in the air."

"Aye, I will."

Levy scrambled quickly out of bed. She threw Gajeel a tremulous smile and then hurried toward the wardrobe chamber which adjoined the main bedchamber.

The room was empty at this early hour, save for the usual chests of clothing and the baskets of needles and thread the maids kept there. Levy sent up a small prayer of thanks that it was still too early for any of the servants to be at their work.

She had opened one of the chests and was reaching for a warm gown when she had a sudden inspiration. Clutching the garment in front of her, she padded quickly back into the bedchamber.

"Gajeel, mayhap you would like to ride out rather than walk? I very much enjoyed our … By Mavis's eyes." She broke off in outraged shock. "What are you doing?"

Gajeel had one knee on the bed. He was in the process of emptying the contents of a small vial onto the sheets. He looked up. Something he saw in her expression must have alerted him. "Now, Levy, I am doing this for your sake."

"My sake?" She pointed a finger that shook with the force of her fury. "That's chicken blood in that vial, is it not?"

"Levy, listen to me."

"You are putting chicken blood on the sheets."

"Aye. I have heard that it's a common substitute for…ah, well, you know."

She folded her arms beneath her breasts and slitted her eyes. "I know very well what it's used for, my lord."

"Levy, the servants who come to change the sheets will be looking for evidence of our wedding night. Gossip about the blood on the linen or the lack of it will be all over the isle by this afternoon. You know that as well as I do."

"So you are going to see to it that your honor as a man remains untarnished, is that it?"

"Hell's teeth. 'Tis your honor that I am concerned with, madam. I would not have everyone speculating on why there is no stain on the wedding sheets."

"Hah! I do not believe that for a moment. 'Tis your pride that concerns you. You cannot bear to have the world think that you got saddled with a bride who had given herself to another before the wedding, can you?"

"You believe that 'tis my pride that's involved here?" he demanded incredulously.

"Aye, that is precisely what I believe."

Levy stormed across the chamber, bent down, and dragged a small chest out from under the bed. It was the chest in which she had concealed all of the vials of chicken blood that she had been given on her wedding day.

Gajeel scowled as he watched her jerk open the lid of the chest. "What are you doing?"

"You want blood on the sheets?" She straightened, her hands full of the vials. "You'll get blood on the sheets, my lord. Indeed, I shall see to it that you get all the blood any man could possibly want."

He eyed her warily as she stalked toward the bed. "Ah, Levy, mayhap your temper is running off with your wits."

"Oh, no, my lord, I assure you that I am thinking quite clearly at the moment." She gave him a honey-and-steel smile and then clambered up to stand in the middle of the big bed. "In fact, I venture to say that my wits have never been sharper or more clear than they are right now."

He looked at the collection of vials she was juggling. "Then why do I have the suspicion that we are both going to regret what you are about to do next?"

"I cannot imagine, my lord." Levy unstoppered the first vial and held it aloft. "Behold, sir, you are not the only person to doubt my word of honor."

"I do not doubt your word of honor, Levy. I am merely trying to protect you from gossip."

"Bah. You didn't mean a thing you said last night about trusting me. You will be pleased to know that you are in excellent company. Herewith, the chicken blood that was graciously supplied to me by Porlyusica the recluse."

Levy turned the open vial upside down and dumped the contents onto the sheets. The old chicken blood, thick and clotted after being stored in the vial for nearly two days, made a nasty reddish brown puddle in the center of the white linen. It completely obliterated the few discreet drops of red that Gajeel had sprinkled about.

Gajeel looked at the unsightly blob and then regarded Levy with an expression of polite curiosity. "Are you finished?"

"Not at all. We are just beginning, my lord." Levy selected another vial and held it aloft for Gajeel's inspection. "Here we have the chicken blood that was so kindly bestowed upon me by Prioress Kinana. I'm sure it was from a very pure chicken. A virgin chicken, mayhap."

Levy turned the second vial upside down with a flourish. The dark red blood spilled onto the sheets, adding to the gruesome stain.

Gajeel folded his arms and propped one shoulder against the bedpost.

"From my good friend, Lucy." Levy emptied another vial.

"From my loyal servant, Eunice." She smiled grimly as she unsealed the next container. More blood splashed onto the linen.

"And last, but by no means least, the contribution made to the cause by my old nurse, Agnes."

Levy's outrage was still in full sail as she triumphantly turned the last vial upside down and dumped the blood onto the sheets. She gave Gajeel a look of defiant triumph. "Is that a sufficient quantity of blood to satisfy your honor, my lord?"

Gajeel studied the large and quite horrifying pool of thick blood which soaked the bed linen. "I am not certain what you hoped to accomplish, madam, but one thing is clear. No one who views these sheets will believe for one moment that I made love to a virgin last night."

"And just what will they think, sir?"

"That I sacrificed one."

"Oh, my God." Levy stared at the awful mess she had created. Reality came back with the force of a thunderbolt. She stood, stricken, in the middle of the bed and raised her eyes helplessly to meet Gajeel's gaze.

He smiled slowly.

"By Mavis's maidenhead," Levy whispered. "What have I done?"


	20. Chapter 19

He smiled slowly.

"By Saint Mavis's maidenhead," Levy whispered. "What have I done?"

Gajeel's crimson red eyes gleamed with gathering mirth.

"This is not at all amusing, Hellhound. This is a disaster. How will I ever explain this vast amount of blood?"

Gajeel's smile curved into a grin.

"Gajeel, so help me. I'm warning you—"

He began to chuckle.

Outraged all over again, Levy picked up one of the herb-scented pillows and hurled it at him. It struck Gajeel squarely on the chest. Levy picked up a second pillow.

Gajeel's chuckle became a roar of magnificent, full-throated, laughter. It was a huge sound that originated deep in his chest and poured forth with the unfettered exuberance of a waterfall.

Levy clutched the pillow to her breast and stared at him. She realized it was the first time she had heard him laugh.

The glorious sound boomed off the stone walls and echoed around the chamber. Gajeel unfolded his arms, took a grip on the bedpost with one hand, and doubled over with laughter.

Levy tilted her head to one side and watched in growing wonder. "Gajeel? Are you all right?"

His mirth increased. His broad shoulders shook with it.

Levy wrinkled her nose. "It isn't all that funny, sir,"

Another gale of laughter swept over him.

"Hush." Levy glanced nervously toward the door. "Someone will hear you, my lord."

Gajeel braced his forearm against the bedpost, leaned against it, and howled.

Levy started to smile in spite of herself. The sight of Gajeel convulsed with laughter was oddly gratifying, for some strange reason.

"I'm glad you find this a cause for such grand mirth, my lord," she said. "I doubt that any of those brave chickens that died for my honor were nearly so amused as yourself."

"Nay." Gajeel raised his head to look at her. He tried and failed to swallow another shout of laughter. "I doubt that they were. Mayhap if they could have seen you now, as I do, caught in such an interesting dilemma, they would have felt better about the matter. By my oath, madam, those poor chickens have surely had their revenge."

Levy groaned. "What am I going to do? This is a terrible situation. Everyone will gossip about it. I cannot possibly explain it. What will people think?"

"That the lady of Desire has some very exotic tastes in bed."

Levy beetled her brows at him. "I would like to remind you, my lord, that you are as involved in this as I am."

"Aye."

"Mayhap everyone will think that you did something quite dreadful to me last night. They will likely blame you for this."

"I doubt it. I suspect that whoever changes these sheets will recognize such vast quantities of chicken blood when she sees it."

Levy groaned. "Everyone will conclude that I botched the business of creating an illusion of virginity, will they not?"

"Aye, madam. Very likely. In this sort of thing, as in so many things in life, discretion and restraint are the keys one must use if one wishes to succeed."

Levy collapsed into a sitting position at the foot of the bed. She folded her legs under her, propped her elbow on one knee, and rested her chin in her hand. Glumly she studied the mess on the bed.

"I am going to look like a perfect fool, aren't I?" Levy said.

Gajeel's laughter faded into a grin. His eyes remained quite brilliant, however. "Aye, madam. This business will likely prove a stimulating topic of conversation for our people for the next several months. Mayhap for the next several years."

"By Saint Mavis's—"

Gajeel held up a hand. "Not her maidenhead, I pray you. Anything but that."

"By her sainted brow." Levy sighed. "This is the most humiliating moment of my entire life."

"Nay, madam. I expect that will occur when you are obliged to face a hall full of people today at dinner."

Levy flinched at the thought. "What are we going to do?"

Gajeel arched one brow. "We?"

"'Tis your fault, sir," she muttered. "All of it. If you hadn't made me lose my temper, this would never have happened."

"Mayhap," Gajeel said with surprising gentleness, "this is where I should begin to demonstrate to you my many virtues as a husband."

Levy raised her chin from her palm. "What do you mean? What are you going to do?"

"Create another kind of illusion." Gajeel walked through the passageway that led into the wardrobe. "Excuse me. I shall return in a moment."

"What are you doing in there?" Levy called.

"Patience, madam, patience. Ah, here we go. This cloth will do nicely."

Levy watched anxiously as Gajeel reappeared from the other chamber. He had a large rag in one hand. He crossed the room to the bed.

"First, I will blot up the excess chicken blood." He went to work with the old rag.

"But that won't get rid of the huge stain," Levy pointed out.

"Nay." Gajeel finished his task and wadded the soaked rag into a small ball. "But at least the mark that is left on the sheets will no longer be readily identifiable as the remains of several dead chickens. Now it is simply a reddish stain that could have been made by human blood."

"Do you think so?" Levy was skeptical. "I had thought that there would be only a small stain. This is monstrous."

"Aye, so it is." Gajeel opened a chest that contained his personal possessions, pulled our a canvas sack, and dropped the wet rag inside. "We shall get rid of this evidence when we take our morning walk along the cliffs."

"That is an excellent plan." Levy cheered momentarily and then sank back into the depths of uneasiness. "What do you propose to do about this massive stain on the sheets?"

"It will most certainly cause comment." Gajeel rummaged around inside the chest. "Unless we provide a suitable explanation for it, people will likely conclude now that I was brutal and clumsy with you."

"I would not have them believe that, my lord. It would not be fair."

"Thank you. I appreciate your wifely concern for my good name."

"Never mind that. How do you propose to deal with this problem?"

Gajeel straightened from the chest. He held up a small, extremely wicked-looking dagger. "I propose to provide another explanation for the amount of blood that it obviously took to stain your wedding sheets, my lady."

Levy gazed at the dagger in horror. She recalled Beatrice's prediction. Blood will flow. "I don't understand."

"You soon will." Gajeel went to the hearth, crouched down, and stoked the flames of the night's fire. "I once read a treatise written by an Arab physician. He claimed that a blade should be thoroughly heated in fire before it is used to perform any sort of surgical operation."

"Gajeel." Levy sprang to her feet in alarm. "Nay, you must not."

"Calm yourself, madam. This won't hurt you a bit."

"I will not allow you to do such a thing." Levy flew across the room to stop him.

She was too late. In the blink of an eye, Gajeel removed the dagger from the flames and drew the point swiftly and neatly across his upper arm.

Levy's hand went to her mouth as she watched blood well gently along the shallow cut. "By Saint Mavis's teeth."

Gajeel glanced up from his handiwork. "You need not look so horrified, Levy. 'Tis a very minor scrape. I have had much worse, I promise you."

"Oh, Gajeel."

"I would appreciate it if you went into the wardrobe and fetched a clean square of linen that I may use as a bandage."

"Oh, Gajeel."

"A large square," Gajeel added. "I want this bandage to be quite obvious to all and sundry."

"Oh, Gajeel."

"Would you hurry, please, before I get blood on something other than the sheets?"

Levy broke free of the paralysis that gripped her. She swung around and raced madly into the wardrobe. She found what she wanted in a chest and dashed back into the bedchamber.

She grabbed a pot of herbal healing salve from a shelf and hastened over to where Gajeel waited on the bed.

"How could you do this?" she wailed as she wiped the blood from his arm. "What will you tell people?"

Gajeel shrugged. "That I had a small accident with my dagger."

She looked at him askance. "Do you expect people to believe that?"

"They will if we both tell the same tale." Gajeel eyed her meaningfully. "I must have your word that you will not try to embroider the story or alter it in any fashion. Above all, you must not be overcome with a fit of honesty and confess the truth. Let me handle everything. Is that understood?"

She heard the soft but inflexible note of command in his voice and reacted to it unthinkingly. "Aye, my lord."

"Excellent."

"This is terrible," she whispered, hovering over his wound. "You should never have done such a thing for my sake."

"'Tis nothing."

"Nay, 'tis too much, sir." Levy smeared the herbal salve on the shallow slice. "I vow, 'tis the most noble, the most gallant, the most gloriously chivalrous action that anyone has ever performed for me."

Gajeel's mouth quirked as he watched her work on his arm. "As your lord and husband, I am only too glad to be of service to my lady."

"You are too generous, sir." Levy carefully wrapped the length of clean linen around his wound. "I shall be forever in your debt. How can I repay you for this gracious gesture?"

"I'm certain I'll think of something," Gajeel said.

Pantherlilly studied the white linen bandage plainly revealed by the tied-back sleeve of Gajeel's gray tunic. "Dangerous things, daggers."

"Aye." Gajeel flattened his hands on the table and leaned forward to study the sketch of the Isle of Desire that was spread out in front of him. "You have done excellent work on this drawing, Pantherlilly."

"Thank you, my lord." Pantherlilly's mouth kicked up at the corner. "'Twas done rather hastily from notes I made during the past three days. I shall improve upon it as I grow more familiar with the isle."

"I am pleased. This map will prove useful as we plan the isle's defense."

"Judging by the gossip which had swirled through this hall all morning, it might be wise if you prepared a defense against your bride."

Gajeel looked up from the parchment map. "'Twas an accident, Pantherlilly."

"Aye. Whatever you say."

"I was entertaining my wife by demonstrating some tricks with my dagger. The damn thing slipped."

"Tricks with your dagger." Pantherlilly looked thoughtful. "In the marriage bed."

"Aye."

"Accidents will happen."

"Aye."

"Is dagger juggling in bed a local custom here on Desire, sir?" Pantherlilly asked politely.


	21. Chapter 20

"'Tis the custom of a man who has had one too many cups of wine."

"I have never known you to drink a quantity of wine sufficient to make you careless with your dagger."

"You have never known me to get myself wed, either."

"Aye, that is true."

"There is a first time for all things, Pantherlilly."

"That would, mayhap, explain the laughter that is said to have been heard coming from the bridal chamber very early this morning."

"Laughter?" Gajeel gave his friend a quizzical glance.

"A man's laughter. Or so gossip has it. Great peels of it, apparently. Loud enough to be heard by a pair of maids in the hall outside your bedchamber."

Gajeel shrugged. "Household servants are inclined to gossip." He went back to the map.

"You would know nothing of any laughter, naturally," Pantherlilly said.

"Nay."

"Never having been known to laugh at anything in your entire life."

Gajeel ignored that. "For the most part, Desire appears to be naturally fortified by its high cliffs."

"Aye."

"The only obvious place to bring a boat ashore is the village harbor."

"Aye. But I noticed a couple of tiny coves here along the side of the isle that looks out across the channel toward Seabern." Pantherlilly indicated the points with his forefinger.

"Could a boat be landed in either place?"

Pantherlilly glanced at the sketch. "A small fishing boat, mayhap. But the climb up to the top of the cliffs would not be easy. One definitely could not bring a party of mounted men ashore at either of those two locations. There is no cause for concern there."

"'Tis often the small things that cause a man to trip and fall."

Pantherlilly's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Small things such as daggers?"

"Aye. Are there any other interesting features of the isle?"

"Young Happy is very observant. He tells me that there are some caves in the cliffs near one of the small coves."

Gajeel frowned. "Could men or arms be hidden in them?"

"Nay. At least not for more than a few hours. Happy says that at high tides the caves are filled with seawater."

"Very well." Gajeel pondered the sketch. "Let us turn to the matter of this hall. The old wooden curtain wall is weak and sagging in many places. It must be replaced."

"Surely there is no great rush. Desire has never suffered an invasion and is not likely to do so anytime soon."

"I prefer to take every precaution."

"Aye, you always do. Except in bed, apparently."

Gajeel frowned. "I want the old wall replaced with one constructed of stone."

"We will need to hire stonemasons in order to do that. I doubt that Desire has any available."

"We can hire them from Seabern. Send a man there as soon as possible to see to the matter."

"Aye, my lord."

Gajeel took one last look at the map. "A natural fortress. 'Tis a good land we have come to, Pantherlilly." He rolled up the parchment. "A fine land."

"They say that there was a very large bloodstain on the bridal sheets this morning," Pantherlilly murmured. "Far more blood than anyone would expect to discover after the normal activities of a wedding night."

"My dagger wound caused the greater portion of it. Damned thing bled like a slaughtered chicken."

Pantherlilly grinned. "Gajeel, you and I have been as close as two brothers for more than ten years. Surely you can tell me the truth."

"About what?"

"About your little accident with the dagger. What really happened? Is it true that your bride took offense at your lovemaking and that she attempted to fend you off with your own blade?"

Gajeel scowled. "Is that what the gossips are saying?"

"'Tis one of the rumors going around." Pantherlilly raised his brows. "There are others, but none that are nearly so amusing. Mayhap if I knew the truth, I could squelch some of the gossip."

Gajeel met his friend's glinting gaze very steadily. "I told you the truth. It was an accident."

"God's eyes, man, this is your old comrade-in-arms, remember? I know how you handle weapons. Do not expect me to believe that you accidentally sliced your arm with your own dagger while acting the juggler in bed."

"As you said, accidents will happen." Gajeel paused. "Especially in the marriage bed."

Pantherlilly swore again, under his breath. "Very well. If that is the way you would have it, so be it."

A knock on the door interrupted Gajeel before he could respond.

"Enter," he called.

The heavy wooden door swung slowly inward to reveal the anxious but determined faces of Happy and the minstrels followed by Natsu.

"Good day to you, my lord," Happy said. He had a small chunk of meat pie in one hand.

"Good day." Gajeel glanced at the meat pie.

Happy hastily concealed the pie behind his back and glanced uneasily at Jet then to Natsu who tenderly petted his head in comfort. It was clear he was waiting for either guidance or reinforcement from his older companions.

Natsu petted Happy's head one last time before walking towards the front of the room and joining Gajeel.

Jet swallowed visibly. There were beads of perspiration on Droy's brow. Droy's fingers clenched and unclenched in the folds of his tunic. "We came to speak with you, my lord." Jet confessed, he looked pointedly at Pantherlilly. "We wish to be private."

Gajeel studied the two men before him. The minstrels were plainly terrified, but apparently they were not about to flee from the confrontation. In Gajeel's experience there was only one thing that could fortify young men's frail courage to such a degree: a woman.

"I comprehend that this conversation would concern Lady Levy, then?" he asked softly.

Droy blinked several times very rapidly. "Aye, my lord, it would."

Happy stared, round-eyed, up at Gajeel. "Is it true that she cut your arm with a dagger last night because you tried to hurt her, sir?"

Gajeel tapped the rolled-up parchment lightly against his thigh. "Is that what she told you?"

"Nay, sir," Happy began eagerly. "She says—"

"My lady says it was an accident," Jet broke in angrily. "She claims that you were entertaining her with a clever juggling feat and that the dagger slipped and cut your arm. But I do not believe it." Droy grew silent with fear.

"What do you think happened?"

"I think you attacked her and she was forced to defend herself. She has told us many times that she does not care for large, arrogant, overbearing knights. She says they are oafish and ill-mannered and they do not have the souls of poets."

Pantherlilly coughed a little behind one hand.

Gajeel kept his gaze on Jet. "You doubt your lady's explanation of my injury?"

Jet's hands knotted into fists. His sullen, resentful eyes mirrored his fear, but he did not back down. "I believe that she is afraid to alarm us with the truth, my lord. 'Tis just like her to try to protect us."

"From what?" Gajeel asked.

"From you," Happy said helpfully. "Jet says that we are risking our very lives by coming here to talk to you like this. He says you'll likely be violently angry but that we have to do it in order to protect Lady Levy."

Gajeel put the parchment map down. Then he leaned back against the table, folded his arms, and considered the matter in silence for a moment. No one moved. The chamber grew very quiet.

"I am not angry," he said finally.

Happy heaved a loud sigh and then grinned. "I did not think that you would be." He promptly brought the meat pie out from behind his back and took a large bite. "I told Jet that you likely had not hurt Levy last night."

"I appreciate your confidence in me," Gajeel said. "What makes you so certain that I did not do your lady any great harm?"

Happy chewed. "Nothing seems amiss with her. She's in her usual good spirits. She is even now in her workrooms as she always is in the afternoons."

"Excellent reasoning, Happy," Pantherlilly said approvingly while Natsu glared at Pantherlily in agitation with his sarcasm.

Happy preened. "Lady Levy says I am very intelligent."

"You are correct," Gajeel said. "I did not harm your lady last night." He looked at Jet. "But apparently our minstrel does not agree. What do you propose to do, Jet? Challenge me to trial by combat?"

Happy looked thunderstruck. "Combat?" he squeaked.

"Why not?" Gajeel watched Jet's face. "'Tis the usual way such matters are settled when a lady's honor is at stake. Do you favor swords or daggers, Jet?"

Jet looked to Droy who looked as though he were about to become ill. "My lord, I…That is, my lady would never allow me to fight you." Droy stammered.

"There's no need to consult Levy on this," Gajeel said. "'Tis a matter for men, is it not?"

"Ah, well—"

"I myself would prefer swords." Gajeel glanced ruefully down at the linen bandage on his arm. "As you can see, I lack skill with the dagger. I have been known to have accidents."

The minstrels paled. "You mock me, my lord." Jet announced stepping in front of his friend.

"Do I?"

"I can hardly challenge you," Jet sputtered. "You would kill me in an instant."

"Your point is well taken," Gajeel said. "You are no doubt more clumsy with a sword than I am with a dagger. Mayhap we should remedy that fault."

Jet's expression was that of the hare which sees the hawk swooping down on him. "What are you talking about?"

"I did not bring a large company of men with me to defend this isle," Gajeel said. "Not everyone who served me wished to abandon the lucrative business of hunting outlaws in favor of becoming a gardener. Even my squire, Bradford, chose not to accompany me here to Desire."

"I expect hunting outlaws is very exciting," Happy said wistfully.

"Nay, 'tis a business like any other, although I'll admit it is more precarious than some careers," Gajeel said. "And I cannot deny that it pays well, if one is proficient. But then, so does the business of making perfumes."

"Aye." Happy looked doubtful about equating the two endeavors.

"'Tis not the financial aspects of Desire which concern me, however," Gajeel continued. "That is Lady Levy's business. My task is to see to the safety of these lands and the people who live here. A sound defense requires that every man in this household be well trained in the use of arms."

"Lady Levy says that knights and men-at-arms are a great nuisance to have about underfoot," Happy said.

"Aye." Jet sounded a bit bolder now. "Lady Levy doesn't care for men who make their living with their swords. She says her brother, Edmund, died because of his foolish love of tourneying. She says such pursuits are silly and that the sort of men who pursue them are altogether lacking in wits."

Natsu gave Jet, Droy, and Happy a cool, knowing smile. "Your lady may not be overly fond of fighting men, but she was quick enough to choose a husband she believed to be capable of defending her lands and her people."


End file.
